Scientism and Values

The WilliamVolker Fund Series in the Humane Studies
EPISTEMOLOGICAL PROBLEMS OF ECONOMICS
by Ludwig von Mises
THE ECONOMIC POINT OF VIEW
by Israel M. Kirzner
ESSAYS IN EUROPEAN ECONOMIC THOUGHT
Edited by Louise Sommer
SCIENTISM AND· VALUES
Edited by Helmut Schoeck and James W. Wiggins
Freedom School Library
Scientism and Values
Edited by
HELMUT SCHOECK
AND
JAMES w. WIGGINS
D. VAN NOSTRAND COMPANY, INC.
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Contributors
LUDWIG VON BERTALANFFY, Sloan Visiting Professor, The Men-
ninger Foundation, Topeka, Kansas. His works include Mod-
ern Theories of Development (1933); Problems of Life (1952); and
General Systems: Yearbooks of the Society for General Systems
Research (Ludwig von Bertalanffy and Anatol Rapoport,
editors, 1956 et seqq.).
WILLIAM T. COUCH, Editor in Chief, Collier's Encyclopedia, New York
City. He was editor and contributor to Culture in the South
(1954) and These Are Our Lives (1939), and has written
articles and reviews for scholarly and literary journals.
PIETER GEYL, Professor Emeritus of Modern History in the Uni-
versity of Utrecht. His works include The Revolt of the Neth-
erlands (1932); Napoleon: For and Against (1949); and Debates
with Historians (1955); The Use and Abuse of History (1955).
HENRY S. KARIEL is a faculty member at Bennington College, Ver-
mont. Among his recent publications are "Normative Pat-
tern of Eric Fromm's Escape from Freedom," Journal of
Politics (1957); "Democracy Unlimited: Kurt Lewin's Field
Theory," American Journal of Sociology (1956); and "Limits
of Social Science: Henry Adam's Quest for Order," Ameri-
can Political Science Review (1956).
RALPH W. LEWIS, Professor of Biology, Michigan State University.
Among his published papers are "Mutants of Neurospora
Requiring Succinic Acid or a Biochemically Related Acid
for Growth," American Journal of Botany (1948); "The Vita-
min Nutrition of Alternaria solani," Phytopathology (1952);
and "An Outline of the Balance Hypothesis of Parasitism,"
American Naturalist (1953).
v
VI Contributors
MURRAY N. ROTHBARD, Ph.D., consulting economist, New York
City. Selected include "Toward a Reconstruc-
tion of Utility and Welfare Economics," in M. Sennholz,
ed., On Freedom and Free Enterprise, Essays in Honor of Ludwig
von "In Defense of 'Extreme Apriorism,'" Southern
Economic Journal (1957).
HELMUT SCHOECK, Professor of Sociology, Emory University. His
books include Nietzsches Philosophie des Menschlich-Allzumen-
schlichen (1948); Soziologie-Geschichte ihrer Probleme (1952);
USA: Motive und Strukturen (1958); and Was heisst politisch
unmoeglich (1959).
ROBERT STRAUsz-HuPE, Professor of Political Science and Director
of the Foreign Policy Research Institute, University of Penn-
sylvania. Works include The Russian-German Riddle (1940);
The Zone of Indifference (1952); Power and Community (1956);
The Idea of Colonialism (1958); and Protracted Conflict (1959).
ELISEO VIVAS, John Evans Professor of Moral and Intellectual
Philosophy, Northwestern University. His publications in-
clude The Moral Life and the Ethical Life (1950); Creation
and Discovery (1955), and D. H. Lawrence: The Failure and-
the Triumph of Art (1960).
RICHARD M. WEAVER, Professor of English, University of Chicago.
His published works include Ideas Have Consequences (1948);
The Ethics of Rhetoric (1953); and Composition: A Course in
Writing and Rhetoric (1957).
W. H. WERKMEISTER, Director, School of Philosophy, University of
Southern California. His publications include A Philosophy
of The Basis and Structure of Knowledge (1948); and A
History of Philosophical Ideas in America (1949).
JAMES W. WIGGINS, Professor and Former Chairman, Department
of Sociology and Anthropology, Emory University. Among
his publications are Foreign Aid Re-examined, coeditor,
(1958) and "Society's Interest in the Marital Status,"
Journal of Public Law (1955). He is director of the national
study, A Profile of the Aging: U.S.A., to be published in 1961.
Contents
Contributors
Introduction
by HELMUT S C H O E C ~
PAGE
V
ix
1
22
50
CHAPTER
1 SOCIAL SCIENCE AND THE PROBLEM OF VALUE
by W. H. WERKMEISTER
2 OBJECTIVITY AND SOCIAL SCIENCE
by W. T. COUCH
3 SCIENCE AND THE STUDIES OF MAN
by ELISEO VIVAS
4 CONCEALED RHETORIC IN SCIENTISTIC SOCIOLOGY 83
by RICHARD M. WEAVER
5 FIDUCIARY RESPONSIBILITY AND THE
IMPROBABILITY PRINCIPLE 100
by JAMES W. WIGGINS
6 KNOWLEDGE: UNUSED AND MISUSED 119
?y HELMUT SCHOECK
7 SCIENTISM IN THE WRITING OF HISTORY 144
by PIETER GEYL
8 THE MANTLE OF SCIENCE 159
by MURRAY N. ROTHBARD
9 GROWTH, IN BIOLOGY AND IN EDUCATION
by RALPH W.LEWIS
10 THE PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF SCIENTISM
by LUDWIG VON BERTALANFFY
vii
181
202
viii Contents
11 SOCIAL SCIENCE VERSUS THE OBSESSION OF "SCIENTISM" 219
by ROBERT STRAusz-HuPE
12 SOCIAL SCIENCE AS AUTONOMOUS ACTIVITY 235
by HENRY S. KARIEL
INDEX OF AUTHORS
INDEX OF SUBJECTS
261
265
Introduction
HELMUT SCHOECK
"Scientism" is a term of criticism. In the realm of aesthetic
creativity, the critic is usually a revered and accepted professional.
But in the field of social science the man who suggests self-criticism
and internal systematic doubt of what we are doing often invokes
the scorn and wrath of his fellows who feel threatened in smug
niches of narrow expertness.
l
However, though we use the term "scientism" in a slightly
pejorative and reproving sense, we do not think of ourselves as
antiscientific. Scholars who are critical of scientism·· do not offer
intuitions as the remedy. On the contrary, the word "scientism"
conventionally describes a type of scholarly trespassing, of pseudo
exactitude, of embracing incongruous models of scientific method
and conceptualization. Scientism fosters not only the "fads and
foibles" of contemporary sociology, but is also in itself a symptom
of an insecure world view, of a negative social philosophy. Certain
models of society, certain techniques which this volume evaluates,
and for which we suggest the label "scientism," appeal sometimes
to insecure individuals and groups because such use of science in
human affairs supposedly would allow one to "fix," to freeze the
world once and for all.
2
Moreover, scientistic interpretation of the study of man throws
the scholarly grasp of human nature and its volitions open to
ideological manipulations when least suspected. Quantities can
be ,as subjective an argument as a stress on qualities. But most
people are less aware of this fact. If the public or fellow scholars
are unwilling, for· prescientific, i.e., ideological reasons, to accept
our arguments, statistical data and their expert manipulation will
ix
x Introduction
not convince them. Indeed, we can always startle our positivistic
friends in the social sciences by asking them to name just one
major policy decision or law that came about, against the popular
and political preferences for it, on the strength of quantitative
data. Can we recapture the proper-i.e., most fertile-balance
between elements of measurement, of quality, and of form in
the study of social man?
Over a number of years participants in this symposium, and
others, have shown, in their individual publications, increasing
concern with the harm done to the true study of man, especially
as a social being, by a form of scientismthat takes various disguises
of strict scientificalness. It is. not merely neopositivism, which, by
the way, has been criticized by a number of· able men; it is also
more than a cult of quantification. Scientism implies a cynical
world view-in the original meaning of the word: it is a doglike
view of man, or shall we say riatlike? Man is best understood, so
the scientistic expert holds, when seen from th'e level of a rodent
eager to learn the ins and outs of a maze. He can be conditioned
to put up with almost anything the few wise designers of the maze
have mapped out for him.
And yet a critical attitude toward scientism is not to be con-
fused with an antievolutionary position. On the contrary, we see
scientistic sociologists and anthropologists refuse to learn from
research on animals because it might challenge their creed of en-
vironmental determinism. As A. L. Kroeber observed not long
ago,
3
many of his colleagues in America are studiedly ignorant of
the work of the ethologists, including such renowned men as Karl
von Frisch and Konrad Lorenz, who explore species-specific innate
behavior patterns.
Thus, we should ask just which aspects of the presocial and
nonsocial sciences appeal to those afflicted with scientism.? And
why are they enthralled and to what effect? The scientistic students
of social man have isolated their field from meaningful •reality
by an arbitrary barrier of methodology. "What we cannot study
does not exist-for the time being." This was done partly 'by
reserving the 'labels: "scientific" and "scholarly" (wissenscha/tlich)
for a few approaches' to reality which laymen and social' scientists
Introduction xi
conventionally associate with the natural sciences. Scientistic doc-
trinaires chose to ignore the fact that these few methods were by
no means the only approaches used in the natural sciences. Berta-
lanffy's paper cites striking examples of this naivete.
Fritz Machlup blames part of this on a semantic confusion and
remarks that in German-speaking countries certain excesses of
scientism may not have appeared for the simple reason that the
word wissenschaftlich embraces a larger number of methods and
approaches than does, "scientific" in the English-speaking world.
4
And when we examine prenineteenth-century uses of the word
Wissenschaft-from the Teutonic weight of which the word
"science" obtained some additional glamor around the turn of the
century-we find that learned men, around 1780, understood
W issenschaft primarily to mean "worth knowing" or "worth
noticing." When we are critical of a fashionable brand of scien-
tism, we do not intend to belittle the necessity and actual power
of the method of obervation. We plead for more courage in ob-
serving phenomena, even if the .methodologist tells us that his
tools are not yet ready for them, or never will be.
We might heed what so eminent an economist as Jacob Viner
wrote about his field:
5
And for some time in the future there will be problems of interest to
the economist which will be elusive of the application of the tech-
niques of precise nleasurement and which will have to be dealt with
by methods of. inquiry which in the dogmatics of the laboratory scien-
tist have lost their respectability. It is true, however, even of the
physical sciences, or at least so I gather from the recent writings of the
more articulate physicists, that they are losing some of their late
Nineteenth Century preference for naive as against sophisticated
metaphysics, and also that until they have devis,ed quantitative
methods of dealing with problems they proceed brazenly by means of
inferior methods without much apparent injury to their self-esteem.
And even John Maynard Keynes, in his General Theory of Em-
ployment;, Interest and Money (pp. 297 f.), was well aware ofa fact
that most of his ardent followers seem to have forgotten. He
warned:
xii Introduction
It is a great fault of symbolic pseudomathematical methods of formal-
izing a system of economic analysis ... that they expressly assume
strict independence between the factors involved and lose all their
cogency and authority if this hypothesis is disallowed; whereas, in
ordinary discourse, where we are not blindly manipulating but know
all the time what we are doing and what the words mean, we can
keep "at the back of our heads" the necessary reserves and qualifica-
tions and the adjustments which we shall have to make later on, in a
way in which we cannot keep complicated differentials "at the back"
of several pages of algebra which assume that they all vanish. Too
large a proportion of recent "mathematical" economics are mere con-
coctions, as imprecise as the initial assumptions they rest on, which
allow the author to lose sight of the complexities and interdepend-
encies of the real world in a maze of pretentious and unhelpful
symbols.
Adherents of scientism-as far as the study of man is con-
cerned-have turned the meaning of "science" (Wissenschaft) into
the art of selective "not knowing" and "not noticing." Today's sci-
entistic bias compels students to know the worthless and keeps
them from searching for the knowledge of worthwhile bodies of
data.
6
In 1953, the student government of Yale University pub-
lished its rather harsh "Course Critique," a booklet guiding new
students to worthwhile courses. According to the specific critique
of the course in social psychology, enrolled students seemed to
learn little and became impatient because the professor's methodo-
logical zeal and rigor kept him from imparting knowledge of what
makes human beings really "tick" in soci'al interaction.
We could be amused and simply wait for the eventual passing
of this fad. Yet it is not so comfortable a situation. We probably
know considerably more about social man, about our systems of
social organization, than the fraternity of behavioral scientists and
sociometrists allows us to admit. Many of the theoretical achieve-
ments, as well as the everyday routine work of the natural sciences,
depend on subjective sensory experiences, evaluations, and judg-
ments of a kind that is strictly outlawed as "unscientific" or
"unscholarly" in the official social sciences of today.
Especially are we forbidden to use simple declarative, and
Introduction xiii
sometimes pejorative, terms without which a chemist or anatomist
could not even communicate in his profession. If this, were
because of a humanistic self-consciousness, we could hardly find
fault with it, but it becomes ludicrous when the taboo is imposed
on the ground that we have to follow the natural sciences.
Under cover of this confusion some social scientists foolishly
or mischievously undermine forms of social (political, economic)
life the defense of which ought to employ cognitive and evaluative
means (and terms) that still constitute the major tools of many
natural sciences. If social scientists really knew what natural
scientists do, they could hardly derive a mandate for aggressive
social reforms from their ambition to be scientists. Natural
scientists are often compelled, in certain fields, to let the internal
arrangement of their subject matter alone. A scientific grasp of,
and approach to, the world around us is by no means synonymous
with the wish to change things. There are several disciplines whose
masters are committed to, and trained for, the most careful con-
servation and restoration of past structures. Archaeology, linguis-
tics, medical arts, plant and animal ecology, limnology, to name a
few, apply scientific method and care in order to preserve or restore
structures and arrangements which came about without benefit
of a human planner. For instance, sociology could benefit from
the morphological approach used in the life-sciences (e.g., com-
parative anatomy). Of course, there is no ontological congruity
between the objects studied in these fields. What I should like to
stress here is the heuristic value of this type of categorization,
since I shall show this in detail later.
A famous archaeologist once complained that the advent of
photography corrupted the young generation of scholars in his
field. They no longer needed to draw ,\That they saw. They simply
shot a picture, but in the process of doing this they forgot, or
never learned in the first place, how to observe. Drawing with a
pencil on white paper some glimpses deep down in a cave was
hard schooling. It taught ho,v to see.
Similarly, I am afraid, the arrival and pushing of quantitative
methods in the social sciences corrupted young sociologists and
social psychologists. They are so proud of the presumed power
xiv Introduction
of statistical tools, of measurement of attitudes, for instance,
that they never learn how to observe significant phenomena in
their field of study. They learn all about "measuring" attitudes
before they can tell one attitude from another by looking at a
human being in social action.
This helplessness of our social scientists is shown, for instance,
by their failure to come to grips with the phenomenon of aggres-
sion. Learned teams have tried to discover what makes human
beings aggressive. They have studied international tensions, hostil-
ities, frustrations, and other surface phenomena. It has hardly
occurred to them to go beyond the terms "aggression" or "hos-
tility." If they had been as open to such problems as, were our
students of man in the nineteenth century, it could not have
escaped their attention that envy is a much more basic common
denominator for various phenomena of "aggression" or "hos-
tility" than "frustration," although a less flattering motive with
which to excuse the perfidy of a Hitler or a Castro. The frustra-
tion theory nearly allows one to put the blame on the alleged
frustrator; in the case of envy, this is a little more difficult.
w. T. Couch has made pertinent comments on this point: the
developments we have come to call scientism are probably, in
part, responsible for the facility with which social scientists
circumvent crucial phenomena of human action that have tra-
ditionally form,ed a link between the empirical observation of
man and normative philosophy.
NOTES
1. See) for instance, Sylvia Thrupp: "An audience of historians is not
enough. Yet will the average sociologist join the audience? Will he be
afraid, if he is seen reading a journal of 'Comparative Studies in Society
and History,' of being thought unscientific, antiquarian, a deviant in his
profession, maladjusted?" "History and Sociology: New Opportunities for
Co-operation," American Journal of Sociology) LXIII (1957), 14.
Probably one of the earliest uses of the term scientism in a critical and
derogatory vein can be found in Max Scheler, Die Wissensformen und
die Gesellschaft (Leipzig, 1926), p. 271. Recently one could note an in-
creasing use of the terms "scientism" and "scientistic" in scholarly and
scientific writing. Here are a few examples.
". . . scientism may be described as an addiction to science. Among the
Introduction xv
signs of scientism are the habit of dividing all thought into two cate-
gories, up-to-date scientific knowledge and nonsense; the view that the
mathematical sciences and the large nuclear laboratory offer the only
permissible models for successfully employing the mind or organizing
effort.... One main source for this attitude is evidently the persuasive
success of recent technical work.... The danger-and this is the point
where scientism enters-is that the fascination with the mechanism of
this successful enterprise may change the scientist himself and society
around him. For example, the unorthodox, often withdrawn individual,
on whom most great scientific advances have depended in the past, does
not fit well into the new system. 'And society will be increasingly faced
with the seductive urging of scientism to adopt generally what is regarded
-often erroneously-as the pattern· of organization of the new science.
The crash program ... the megaton effect are becoming ruling ideas in
complex fields such as education, where they may not be applicable."
(Gerald Holton, Professor of Physics, Harvard University, in his paper,
"Modern Science and the Intellectual Tradition," Science, CXXXI [April
22, 1960J, 1191.)
Joseph R. Royce, a professor of psychology, writing in the December,
1959, issue of the American Scientist (XLVII, 534), offers this definition
and warning: "... as men ... we tend to commit ourselves in an ulti-
mate sense to a particular structuring of the value universe.... Com-
munists ... have made this type of commitment to their political views
. . . and have thereby made communism their religion. In my opinion,
this same attitude can be taken in the name of science, and we may prop-
erly refer to this type of religious commitment as scientism. I do not
wish to be misunderstood at this critical juncture. As I see it, we should
apply the scientific method to any and all problems.... However, my
point is that the final putting together of the segments of life will always
be a highly subjective and individual task ... which cannot be scientized."
Michael Polanyi finds "that modern scientism fetters thought as cruelly
as ever the churches had done. I t offers no scope for our most vi tal be-
liefs and it forces us to disguise them in farcically inadequate terms.
Ideologies framed in these terms have enlisted man's highest aspirations
in the service of soul-destroying tyrannies." (Personal Knowledge:
Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy [University of Chicago Press 1958],
p. 265.)
And Jacques Barzun, surveying the jargon of several of our "leaders of
social science," speaks of the "enormous harm [that] has been done by
heedless scientism to language, first, and through it to everyone's mind."
(The House of Intellect [New York: Harper, 1959J, p. 230.
2. Kai T. Erikson, Psychiatry, XX (August 1957), 271 f., has shown how
the scientistic models of certain psychiatrists tend to lure patients into
an unrealistic attitude toward treatment.
3. A. L. Kroeber, "On Human Nature," Southwestern Journal of Anthro-
pology, XI (1955), 196 f., 200, 204.
4. Fritz Machlup, "The Inferiority Complex of the Social Sciences," On
Freedom and Free Enterprise, Essays in Honor of Ludwig von Mises
J
xvi Introduction
edited by Mary Sennholz (Princeton: D. Van Nostrand Company, 1956),
p. 165.
5. 1. Viner, The Long View and the Short (1958), pp. 42 f., reprinted from
an article in American Economic Review) Supplement) XVIII (March,
1928).
6. See) for instance, William C. Boyd, "Has Statistics Retarded the Progress
of Physical Anthropology?" American Journal of Physical Anthropology)
XVI, No.4 (December, 1958), 483: H ••• the use of statistical methods in
physical anthropology, although no doubt useful ... has in the past
retarded the progress of the discipline, by leading to a false feeling of
security in the uncritical accumulation of great masses of measurements
and by discouraging attempts at physiological and genetic analysis of
human traits." If this can be said about physical anthropology, should
we not heed such warning even more for the social and cultural dimen-
sions of man?
1
Social Science and the Problenl
of Value
w. H. WERKMEISTER
The purpose of this paper is to consider social science and
the problem of value within the over-all framework of "scientism
and the study of man." By "scientism" I mean here a boundary
transgression or a misuse of otherwise legitimate procedures and
attitudes of science.
To put the problem into clearer perspective, it may be well
to consider briefly what is meant here by science and the "enter-
prise of science." To a large extent, of course, this is a matter
of method. But that the material success and the prestige of
modern natural science have aggravated the problem-if they
have not actually created it-goes without saying.
I t may be well for our purposes to distinguish two interrelated
aims of science: description and explanation. By description is
meant a simple enumerative account of the observable features
and qualities of things and events, whereas explanation is an
attempt to account for the facts and to show why they are what
they are. Ultimately all scientific explanation involves some law
or laws in terms of which the explanation is accomplished.
This enterprise of science, however, depends on and involves
a number of discernible aspects, mostly of a methodological
nature. Thus, the first step in any scientific enterprise must be
1
2
Scientism and Values
the collection and description of facts, the precise statement of
what is the case. Observation and measurement are here indispen-
sable. But it is at this level, too, that experimentation plays its
part. The purposes for which experiments may be devised are mul-
tiple. They may be simply a part of the procedure of determining
the case; but they may also be designed as tests for hypotheses
or for the verification or disproof of laws. That experimentation
implies its own set of assumptions of a logical and ontological
nature may be remarked only in passing.
Facts ascertained by observation and/or by experimentation
become the basis for inductive generalizations and, ultimately, for
the construction of explanatory hypotheses. Such
although they are essentially imaginative constructions of logical
schema from which laws descriptive of the observed facts can be
derived by logical transformations-must be logically possible
(i.e., they must be self-consistent) and must have predictive signi-
ficance. .
Now, the history of science is quite clear on one point: facts
were discovered, isolated, and described in various fields of in-
vestigation; and explanatory hypotheses were developed corre-
spondingly. Thus, there was the field of classical mechanics and
the field of electrodynamics, and there was also the quite separate
field of chemistry. Each field was developed independently, and in
each field explanatory hypotheses made possible the derivation
of specific laws descriptive of the observed facts. That all the facts
were, in essence, the results of measurements and were statable in
purely quantitative terms was but a result of certain assumptions
underlying the enterprise in all fields of investigation.
But when facts were discovered which legitimately belonged
to more than one field of classical mechanics,
for example, as well as to electrodynamics-it was found neces-
sary to construct a theory (Einstein's theory of relativity) whose
definitions and postulates made possible the logical derivation of
laws in both fields. And, similarly, new definitions and assump-
tions, entailing the law of quantum mechanical resonance, led to
the integration of the whole realm of physics and the realm of
Social Science and the Problem of Value 3
chemistry as well. There emerged, in other words, the ideal of an
integrated and closed system of science encompassing all of
physical existence. This actual achievement in the natural sciences
of an all-encompassing integrative theory had its unmistakable
effects in other areas of knowledge as well. The dream was, born
that some day-and in the not too distant future,--the same
methods and procedures so successfully applied in the natural
sciences would, via the biological and behavioral "sciences,"
encompass the whole of reality and would make everything-man
included-amenable to scientific interpretation and understand-
ing. From the point of view of the integration of all knowledge
this was unquestionably an ideal worth striving for.
This ideal of an integrated science, however, was keyed to two
crucial assumptions. One of these assumptions, formulated by
Galileo and actually employed in the natural sciences, was that
only quantities or facts reducible to quantities could be admitted
as real in science. The other-perhaps only a corollary of. the
first-was that only material objects and their interactions could
be regarded as legitimate objects of science. The ideal of an in-
tegrated universal science would therefore inevitably entail a
naturalistic reductionism and the elimination of all value concepts
from the realm of science. Values, however, are part and parcel
of human existence-of an existence, that is, which is essentially
purposive activity and a matter of manifold valuations. In view
of the value-permeated character of human existence, a special
problem arises for all who advocate a total unity and integration
of science. It is this: Can man and his deliberate and purposive
actions be subordinated to a value-free conception of reality,
and can the human world be integrated with physical nature into
an all-comprehensive scientific view of the world? To put it in
still other terms: Can the reality of man, permeated with values
as it is, be fully understood in terms of value-free concepts and
theories? The problem would not arise, however, were it not for
a number of influential persons in the field of the social sciences
who ardently believe that it can be done and who work toward
the realization of this goal. Still, the' problem of value looms
4 Scientism and Jlalues
large in the human world and cannot be brushed aside easily.
If only the advocates of the reduction of social studies to the level
of a natural science could get around the problem of values, they
would have clear sailing. The problem of values, therefore, oc-
cupies a key position in this quest for an all-encompassing science.
An examination of the learned journals in the various fields
of the social sciences soon reveals, however, that it is not always
clear just what is meant by "the problem of value," or whether
any particular author regards it as one problem or as many.
There is evidence, on the contrary, that different authors mean
different things when, overtly or by implication, they are con-
cerned with values; that their perspectives differ; and that their
aims are at variance.
I submit that "the problem of value" occurs in the social
sciences in at least three basic forms; that these three forms must
be strictly separated if we are to solve "the" problem at all; and
that each form, in its own way, is ultimately related to an all-
inclusive value theory, the broad outlines of which I hope to
indicate in a moment. And I submit, more specifically, that in
dealing with "the problem of value" in the present context we
must speak of (a) the value of the social sciences, (b) values in
the social sciences, and (c) values for the social sciences.
I
(a) The question of the value of the social sciences constitutes
no particular problem. Knowledge obtained in any field of inquiry
is of value to us-including the knowledge obtained in the social
sciences; and it is of value to us in a twofold sense. It is of value
(i) because knowledge of any kind satisfies man's innate curiosity;
and it is of value (ii) because knowledge and understanding are
of crucial importance as the basis for rational decisions and rea-
sonable actions.
As to (i), little need be said here. We must re.alize, however,
that man's innate curiosity-his desire· to know-is the driving
force behind much of our basic research. The personal satisfac-
Social Science and the Problem of Value 5
tions derived or derivable from the enterprise known as science
are, for many of us, sufficient to ascribe value to a science. Let
us not underestimate the significance of this side of our work.
As far as (ii) is concerned, the value of the social sciences. tran-
scends, of course, all merely subjective valuations. We have to
deal here with the pragmatic and empirically demonstrable value
of the social sciences-with their value in the service of man's
aspirations, intentions, and hopes, including his aspiration to
understand himself and to control his environment. It is note-
worthy, however, that this pragmatic value of science-of the
social sciences as well as of the physical and the biological
sciences-is but the value of a means to an end, and that scientific
knowledge, being a means only, is neither the end pursued nor
a substitute for the decisions and actions which determine the end.
Value relations of quite a different nature enter the picture here.
It is true, of course, that any knowledge we have or can obtain
concerning the facts relevant to a decision is of value. A rational
and reasonable decision is. impossible without such knowledge.
But the knowledge upon which the decision is based concerns not
only the actualities prevailing at the time of the decision; it con-
cerns all foreseeable consequences of the decision as well. And the
key to decision-making is not the knowledge provided by the
sciences; it is the value commitments of a civilized humanity.
These commitments, and not the sciences, determine ultimately
what our ends and goals shall be. The various sciences may deter-
mine the appropriateness of the means of attaining a desired end;
they may enable us to estimate the probability of achieving that
end and to determine the cost of achieving it in terms of a pre-
dictable loss of other values; and in this sense they may materially
contribute to our selection and revision of the ends to be pursued.
Nevertheless, science as s c i e n c e ~ a n d this includes the social
sciences-does not define the ideals or value norms that consti-
tute the over-all framework of valuations within which we make
our decisions concerning ends and goals in relation to which the
facts of science are themselves appraised in regard to their instru-
mental value.
6 Scientism and Values
II
(b) The problem of values in science also occurs in a twofold
sense. It occurs (i) in so far as valuations and value commitments
are part of the facts which the social scientist studies.; and it
occurs (ii) as a question concerning the explanatory categories
needed in the social sciences.
The concern of the social scientist with values. in sense (i) is
again obvious. After all, human beings are end-pursuing creatures.
The ends pursued are evaluated, individually and socially, and
these origins, changes, and manifold interrela-
not define the ideals or value norms that consti-
social scientist studies and interprets. As subject matter of the
social sciences, values constitute no particular
it is true, of course, that even in this sense the problem of values
in science does not exist for the physicist· or the chemist.
The second case (ii) in which the problem of values in the
social sciences arises requires more extended discussion; for it is
crucial to the very nature of science as science. I shall deal with
it in some detail in the latter part of this paper. For the present
it suffices to say that, in the social sciences, values. may function
as explanatory universals, that is, in terms of which
social phenomena must be understood; and that the structuraliza-
tion and interrelation of value categories provides the only
rationale for an understanding of the structuralization of a society
or a culture.
III
(c) The third basic form of our problem is the problem of
values for the social sciences. It arises because the investigator
himself makes, and must make, certain value commitments-
both as a person and as a scientist. His commitments as a person
reflect in general the value pattern of his own "community" and
of the social group and the institutions of which he is a member.
As a scientist, however, he is committed also to the specific value
Social Science and the Problem of Value 7
fram,ework within which alone scientists operate. And it is this
framework in particular that I have in mind when I speak of
values for science.
However, not all valuations contained in that framework are of
equal importance for science. By and large, we may speak of two
groups of valuations, each having its own particular significance
for science. There are (i) the over-all value commitments and
valuations of any given culture or period in history with respect
to science in general; and there are (ii) specific value commit-
ments which an· investigator must make if he is to be classed as
a scientist at all.
As far as (i) is concerned, the record of history speaks for itself.
The over-all valuations and value commitments,--the "value cli-
mate"-in contemporary America are much more favorable to the
sciences than were the value commitments of medieval Europe;
and the post-Sputnik emphasis upon science in the, United States
indicates a still further shift in the over-all value framework
within which science exists and has its being. A reappraisal of
science is taking fplace in our own culture. What effect this will
have upon science itself and upon the humanities' only the future
can tell. Even so, the value pattern of our American culture also
sets limits to scientific enterprise-e.g., by delimiting the extent
to which social experiments may be attempted. In addition, how-
ever, every scientist makes personal value commitments which
also have a bearing upon his work. His own valuations determine
not only his choice of a field of research, but the specific problems
with which he is concerned and the manner in which he pursues
them. It would be a mistake to overlook these facts when we
speak of values for science. Nevertheless, values and valuations
of this type do not affect the character or nature of science itself.
They are therefore only loosely connected with our problem.
The specific value commitments and valuations referred to
under (ii) are of a different nature and are of crucial importance
for science. Moreover, they are inescapable; for the moment we
accept scientific rather than nonscientific procedures of investiga-
tion, we must also accept that complexus of valuations summed up
in the term "standards of research.'"
8 Scientism and Values
Exactitude and punctilious, care in the compilation of data, in.,
tegrity and intellectual honesty, sound reasoning, imagination to
see alternative possibilities of interpretation, courage to follow
an argument to its logical conclusion, and a willingness to
abandon cherished ideas in the light of new evidence-these are
but some of the qualifications and valuations indispensable to the
enterprise of science. Their significance for science is obvious.
There is one value commitm.ent, however, which, though as-
sumed in all scientific enterprise, ~ s of particular importance for
the social scientist. This is the commitment to objectivity in the
evaluation and interpretation of facts.
The problem is related to, but not identical with, Max Weber's
thesis of "ethical neutrality" as a prerequisite for the social scien-
tist. What Max Weber demanded was essentially that the social
scientist refrain from passing moral judgment on the facts he
studies. The various Kinsey reports would in this sense measure
up to Max Weber's demand; and, in an obvious sense, the require-
ment of "ethical neutrality" is fundamental and must be fulfilled.
In this same obvious sense, however, the requirement of "ethical
neutrality" is not identical with the demand for objectivity which
I have in mind. Under certain conditions the two demands may
even be in conflict with each other.
In a superficial sense the demand for objectivity means that,
as a scientist, one is to be guided only by facts and by logically
sound inferences from these facts. Actually, however, the problem
cuts deeper and cannot be dealt with so simply; for the so-called
facts do not always exist well defined and in pristine purity. Even
in the physical sciences a certain degree of abstrac'tion from con-
text, of isolation, is required if individual facts are to be obtained.
In the social sciences this process of delimiting the "facts," of
isolating them from overarching contexts, is even more important,
and also more difficult. In ,all of. the sciences the selection and the
demarcation of facts are determined by the basic assumptions
which define the problem to be investigated and delimit its
scope, and by valuations which guide the investigator at every
step in· the course of his investigation. Because of the· relative sim-
plicity and the completely ·value-free character of his subject
Social Science and the Problem of Value 9
matter, the physical scientist here has an advantage which the
social scientist does not have; for the latter is himself an integral
part of the culture in which he lives, and shares in a large
measure the value commitments prevalent in his society; and the
normative ideas of his own culture (conceptions of human rights,
of private enterprise, and the like) and his own value orientations
(be they conservative or liberal, static, dynamic, or ,anything else)
may affect his research from its inception to its conclusion, in-
cluding his delimitation, collection, and interpretation of "facts."
.i\nd, as a rule, the investigator himself may not even be aware of
the influence which these valuations and value commitments have
upon his work. The problem of objectivity, therefore, is one of
the most difficult which the social scientist has to face. I have
dealt with it in another context and shall not discuss it further
at this time.
l
IV
Because we appreciate the v ~ l u e of science, we are inescapably
committed to values for science. But only as explanatory categories
are values of crucial significance in science. And to this problem
of values in science I shall now return.
In order to see our problem in its full significance and proper
perspective, let us remind ourselves for a moment of the funda-
mental change in concept formation and the ideal of explanation
which ,vas essential to the emergence and development of science
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
During the Middle Ages and for centuries thereafter, every
explanation of natural events was given in teleological and value-
loaded terms. Every object and event was assumed to have a pur-
pose, a value-determined place in the world. Man might not un-
derstand in any given case what the purpose or value of some
particular thing was, but a purpose and value it had-if its pur-
pose was only to "glorify God." In the Aristotelian scheme of
explanations, which included "material," "formal," "efficient,"
and "final" causes, only an understanding of the "final" cause-
of the purpose, that is, for the sake of which a thing exists or a
10 Scientism and Values·
change takes place...;..-can provide a full explanation of the facts.
But this is merely' another way of saying that in the Aristotelian
scheme of things" which prevailed prior to the development of
modern science, value terms were indispensable as explanatory
categories. To understand things and events meant to understand
them in terms of the values, which they embody or which they
tend to realize. Even the' Copernican view of the universe was still
charged with value; for did not Copernicus argue that it was
better to have the stars at rest rather than the earth since they
are nobler and more divine?
It was Galileo who first enunciated the principle which became
basic for the physical sciences-the principle, namely, that in
science nothing is to be 'admitted as real which is not itself a
quantity:or is not reducible to a q u a n t i t y ~ Here for the first time
the ideal of a science was envisioned in which value terms 'and
teleological conceptions were no longer acceptable as explanatory
categories. And from the time of Newton on, all interpretations
of the mechanistic processes in nature were given in terms of
"efficient" causation only. "Formal" and "final" causes had no
longer a legitimate place in science as such.
We need not trace here the history, of the gradual acceptance
of this new idea in the physical sciences. Nor need we discuss
the problems confronting the biologist in his efforts to free his
own science from value concepts and teleological cfltegories of ex-
planation. Our concern is with the ,social scientist; and for him
the problem of value terms as explanatory categories is a complex
and difficult one. It is unavoidable, too;' it arises in the social
realm irrespective of any commitment or noncommitment to
Aristotelian- presuppositions, simply because, consciously or un-
consciously, human beings, pursue' 'ends which they value, and
their valuations and value commitments determine their behavior.
If the social scientist does not take, this fact into account, then
human behavior, in '80 far as it is purposive, remains inexplicable,
much of our social action' remains unaccounted for, and the social
sciences cannot advance beyond the elementary stage of mere de-
scription.
It maybe-argued, of course, that'even in the area of the social
Social Science and the Problem of Value 11
studies the employment of value terms as. explanatory categories
should be avoided; that unless this is done, social studies cannot
attain the status of a science. Even' so advanced a· social science
as mathematical economics, however, is based upon value assump-
tions, namely, that all goods to be exchanged involve some factor
of production; that, if no effort were required to produce the
goods, the buyer would not be 'willing ·to pay for them; and .that
every producer of goods seeks, to maximize his profits and that he
acts rationally toward that end. The corollary principles of mar-
ginal utility to the consumer and of marginal return to the
producer but emphasize the reference to valuations and value
commitments inherent in economic theory. Mathematical eco-
nomics, therefore, does not show. that it is possible to avoid value
terms as explanatory categories in the social sciences, but only that
social studies can be scientific despite the fact that all explanations
are ultimately given in value terms, and that this can be achieved
by including value terms in the basic assumptions which are
foundational to the whole science.
The point I am driving at-:-and I shall elaborate my argu-
ment later on---"-may be made in another way. Man is by nature
gregarious, valuing positively whatever satisfies his, affiliative
needs. The whole structure of social living is therefore-.,..and from
the very audit is stratified incon-
formity with value conceptions. Ruth Benedict's Patterns of
lure provides but one of the many proofs of this 'fact. The social
group as a whole functions asa "community" only when its
members have at least some basic value commitment ·in common
and when, collectively and individually, they are intent on realiz-
ing or maintaining those values. It is in this sense that we can
speak of a "community" of scholars, although the individuals
who are members of this "community" live thousands of miles
apart and speak different languages. And it is· in this sense also
that we may witness the complete disintegration of a "com-
munity" even though all members are next-door neighbors within
a city block.
When the collective behavior in a group, a tribe, or a nation
(functioning as a community) becomes clearly defined, stand-
12 Scientism and Values
ardized, and patterned, then "institutions" emerge as the socially
recognized or acknowledged embodiments of co-operative efforts
on behalf of approved but less comprehensive values. So under-
stood, social organization is but the outward manifestation of
more specific hierarchical or co-ordinate value commitments.
Changes in these value commitments-either in the values them-
selves or in the character of the commitments-will inevitably
result in modifications of the institutions involved and, thus., of
the structural pattern of the whole social group or the "com-
munity." It is obvious, I believe, that the social scientist may well
be concerned with the emergence, the function, and the develop-
ment of institutions, with their mutual interrelations and their
relations to the individual, and with their change, persistence,
cultural lag, disorganization, and reorganization. But it is equally
obvious, it seems to me, that no matter what aspect or p.hase of
the social institutions is under study, the social scientist cannot
avoid using value terms in his explanation of the facts; for it is
a socially approved complexus o ~ values which, in the first place,
constitutes the very core around which an institution develops;
and it is a modification of that complexus of values or of its
approval which entails the structural changes in the institution
itself. Thus, whether he wants to or not, the social scientist cannot
escape the problem of value in science in its profoundest and
epistemologically most significant meaning.
One word of caution, however, is now in order. The value
terms which the social scientist employs as explanatory categories
should not be expressions of his own valuations, predilections, or
biases, but should be the basic value commitments inherent in
the phenomena to be explained and should be obtained through
a most scrupulous examination and analysis of the facts them-
selves. That is to say, the value premises of social theory should
state what has been or is being valued within the social group
under investigation, not what should be valued in the opinion of
the investigator. Value terms, if they are to be useful at all as
explanatory categories, must be indigenous to the subject matter
itself.
Social Science and the Problem of Value
v
13
In the preceding sections reference has been m,Cide again and
again to "valuations," "values," and "value commitments." It is
now necessary to clarify this terminology and to explain precisely
what is meant.
Let it be understood from the beginning that no reference to a
Platonic re.alm of value essences is here intended. Nor shall I
hold that "values" in themselves are entities which factually exist
in the world of things. My position is now-as it always has been,
and with respect. to the world of things no less than with respect
to "values"-that the only basis we have for asserting anything
(be it true or false) is our own first-person experience-the ex-
perience to which I can refer as my experience and which, when
you analyze your own experience, you identify as yours. It is the
experience which is simply t h e r e ~ in all its self-revelatory factuality,
when we discuss or analyze anything. That this. experience is
bipolar, including a subject-pole and an object-pole which, in
their conjunction, constitute "my" (or "your") "awareness" of
"something," is but an analytic truth. Interpretation of the sub-
ject-pole leads to our conception of the "empirical subject," the
"self," the "person"; and analysis and interpretation of the object-
pole leads to our conception of "things," "events," "other per-
sons," and, ultimately, the "world" as the sum total of all there is.
It must be noted, however, that from the very first all first-per-
son experience has a "felt" quality about it which also requires
analysis, and in which are rooted our "felt-value" experiences and
our "valuations."
In its most primitive form this "value" quality is recognized
as a felt pleasantness or a felt unpleasantness of the experience or
of the "something" which is being experienced. But such is the
complexity of human experience that, at a more clearly defined
level of reaction to a "world" around us, the gratification of ap-
petites, the assuagement of affiliative needs, the satisfactions of the
mind, and the sense of harmony and self-fulfillment (which is
14 Scientismand Values
happiness) are also "felt" as "values"; whereas, in general, the
negative in each case is "felt" as a "disvalue." We are here con-
fronted with a "hierarchical order" of felt qualities which, despite
many infractions and temporal inversions, tends toward an equi-
librating harmony ·and constitutes the, experiential basis of all
our valuations and value ascriptions-'-our "engagement" as a per-
son in the experience itself providing in each case the criterion of
the "ordeT the' values.
Moreover,. such is the "felt" .quality of our experience that it
encompasses at once the object, event, or situation which occasions
,the "felt" experience. And this fact is the basis. upon which we
ascribe "value" to the objects, events, and situations themselves.
"Values," therefore, do not· exist in the world around us. But
things and events have value because, as warranted by the "felt"
quality of our experierrce,we ascribe value to them.
Beyond the' objects, 'events, and situations which immediately
occasion a "felt value" experience; 'weascribe "value" also to all
things, events, and activities' which, being causally related to the
former, contribute indirectly to the experience; and to those
objects, events, and situations which we anticipate as occasioning
a "felt value" experience. That realization may faU ,short of an-
·ticipation and that a present experience may have to be judged
within the perspective of future events and "felt values" signifi-
cantly implies that value experience is not atomistic and that
the context ·of this experience' itself provides an empirical basis
for revaluing any particular value ascription.
It is not ·necessary to discuss in detail the many and complex
problems which' here confront the philosopher and which have
made progress in value theory so difficult. It is sufficient to point
out that the approach here. suggested---starting with the intrinsic
"value" of certain "felt" qualities of experience and leading to
the ascribed "values." of objects, ,events,and situations, and an
'interpretation of their "order of rank" the cuI de sac of
emotivism and subjectivism no less than.that of Platonic realism.
At every step in our. analysis we can find. empirical warranty for
our assertions, and from .the most ephem.eral "valuations" we can
Social Science and the Problem of Value 15
advance to the most stable, from instantaneous "felt" responses
to "valuations" in the long run and on objective grounds. Value
theory itself is now not only meaningful, but empirically testable.
VI
In referring to the complexity of "felt values," I spoke of a
"hierarchy" and an "order of rank" of these values. Although I
indicated at the time that in .actual experiential situations there
might occur infractions and inversions of such an· order, it is now
necessary to augment my earlier references in still another way.
The key to what I have to say lies in the fact that "felt value"
experiences cluster around certain "core v.alues"which are asso-
ciatedwith distinct facets of human existence. Aside from the
primitive level of simple sensory pleasures-such as, the agreeable-
ness of the taste of a cherry, the pleasing quality of an azure sky-
there are "felt values" which cluster around: the basic gratification
of an appetite, and the cluster of "values" varies with the ap-
petite involved in any particular situation (e.g., hunger or sex).
There is a cluster of "values" ·,associated with. the "felt value"
quality of well-being; and, surely, this cluster of values, except for
certain marginal cases, differs essentially from those centering
around an appetite. There is, furthermore, the whole scale of
"felt values" associated with the assuagement of affiliative needs;
and there are yet different clusters of "felt values" associated with
intellectual satisfactions and aesthetic enjoyments, with the joys
of creation and the experienced sense of self-fulfillment or hap-
piness. And there are the infinitely manifold and variegated value
ascriptions-of means and of ends-which reflect our "felt values"
in a world of facts.
My thesis is that these clusters of "felt values" and of ascriptive
valuations are relatively stable in basic orientation; that many of
them-even in their the value basis for
social institutions; and that, therefore, the "core values" of the
various clusters, .and their 'augmentations and modifications, con..
stitute' explanatory categories indispensable to the social scientist.
16 Scientism and Values
One additional point must be considered, however, before we
return to the problem of value as an explanatory category in the
social sciences. There are two levels of value clusters which are of
particular significance for us. One is the cluster of felt and
ascribed values associated with man's affiliative needs; the other
is the cluster of felt and ascribed values associated with the sense
of fulfillment. The former encompasses the whole range of values
pertaining to "communal" relations of individuals in actual
societies. The latter consists of the ideal projections of self and
community "images," constituting patterns of culture which in-
clude most, if not all, of the other value clusters. That the tran-
sition between the two levels is fluid is obvious. Nevertheless,
only the latter is the projection, of some ideal of a "cultured
humanity," infusing the rest of man's valuations with their ulti-
mate significance and with their relative importance. The degree
of harmony (or disharmony) between the actualities of .any given
society, on the one hand, and the' valuations inherent in its ideal
projections, on the other, is in itself of greatest significance for
an understanding of that society. The United Nations, in ideal
conception and actual functioning, is but one obvious illustration
of what I me.an.
VII
To some students of human behavior, in all its complexity,
the institution is the real isolate of culture. And if this is so,
then the valuations and value ascriptions embodied in institutions
are the key to a real understanding of man's communal living
and to the cultural pattern which dominates it.
A "community" or "society," so I have said earlier, is possible
only because, explicitly or implicitly, its members accept certain
value commitments as binding for them. Mere spatial togetherness
is not sufficient. Persistent value commitments are foundational
to, and more or less clearly defined in, all institutions; and in and
through its institutions a society is structuralized-the structure
reflecting a "hierarchy" of valuations. That there are "overlap-
pings" of institutions merely confirms the fact that things and
Social Science and the Problem of Value 17
events may be valued from different perspectives. In so far as
individuals are members of the same institution, there exists
among them a "hierarchy" of tasks and functions, reflecting the
complexities of the conditions under which the major value com-
mitment is to be realized; and in so far as individuals are mem-
hers of different institutions, conflicts in institutional obligations
become value conflicts for them. A stable society, therefore, is one
in which the value commitments embodied in its institutions
reflect all basic valuations of its members and are harmoniously
adjusted-a society, in brief, which provides for the highest self-
fulfillment. And it is in this sense, too, that throughout history
institutions hav€ helped mold men by stabilizing their highest
valuations and making them socially effective.
It goes without saying, of course, that institutions, once estab-
lished as means t ~ certain ends, may, in time, be perverted into
ends in themselves. Such a shift, however, reflects but a shift in
valuation and must be understood as such. But institutions may
also be modified, expanded, or shifted to a place of new im-
portance in any given society because members of that society
have caught a new vision and have made new value commitments.
The relation of the individual to any particular institution, there-
fore, is always one of mutual interaction: the institution em-
bodying valuations of the past; the individual reflecting those
valuations in the mirror of his own experience and his own in-
sights. The dialectic of this interaction is, thus, the dialectic of
two sources or perspectives of valuation. Individuals are to a
large extent cre.atures of the valuations embodied in the institu-
tions of their society; but, in turn, these institutions and, in fact,
the whole of society reflect the effective valuations of individuals.
In brief, the logical structure of a society contains .as founda-
tional a set of interrelated valuations. Commitment to these
valuations is basic to the unity and the institutional pattern of that
society. Changes in individual valuations effect changes in that
pattern, and changes in the institutions, being dependent on
values, affect, in turn, the value commitments of individuals.
And in this context·I see no possibility of escaping values and
value references as explanatory categories.
18 Scientism and Values
VIII
I said a moment ago that in and through its institutions a
society is structuralized. I now want to enlarge on that statement.
Since each institution is the embodiment of a complexus of
valuations centering around some basic value, the structuraliza-
tion of any given society as a whole is ultimately a matter of the
distribution of value emphases-that is, it is a question of what is
the dominant valuation and what are its stratifications. And here
the social scientist faces the problem of discerning in the society
which he studies, not his own valuations, but the valuations and
value commitments indigenous to that society itself. The problem
has no e.asy solution; but unless it is solved, not only "in principle"
for societies in general, but for every particular society under in-
vestigation, the investigator's work remains incomplete with
respect to that society. It is evident, however, that, even so, a
"value schematism," valid for any society, may also be of sig-
nificance-in the sense, namely, that it provides a "model" by
comparison with which (as an ideal case) actual societies or insti-
tutions within a society may be better understood, even if only
in their deviations from the "model." And any investigation de-
signed to disclose the valuations and value commitments within
a given society is therefore a contribution to sociological knowl-
edge. It is at this point, incidentally, that interest in value as an
explanatory category in the social sciences is intimately inter-
woven with value as factual subject matter for the social sciences.
It is clear, however, that reference to value in the latter sense
is but auxiliary to value as an explanatory category.
It is true, of course, that many of our basic valuations are
subconscious commitments which we make because they are part
and parcel of the society into which we were born and in which
we attained maturity. Nevertheless, as in our individual lives, so
in our social existence, there comes a time-at least for some
of us-when we demand a rational justification for our value
commitments and our distribution of value emphases. And it is
at such times-at times, that is, when we come to a clearer un-
Social Science and the Problem of Value 19
of our own value commitments-that we also ap..
proach society and its institutions with a new understanding; that
we see most clearly that institutions are but socially approved
means for the realization of socially approved key values or "ends."
And we realize also that the devotion of men to the institutions
they serve is in direct proportion to their own commitments to
the values embodied in the various institutions which, together,
stratify their society. A basic change in these commitments-be it
a shift in emphasis or the projection of new goalsr-inevitably
entails a change in that devotion. The whole range of institutional
changes is thus clearly dependent upon changes. in valuations
which, individually conceived, are, in time, socially approved-
where means a value commitment. And it is this very
fact that makes value terms indispensable as explanatory categories
in the social sciences.
IX
I now return briefly and in conclusion to the matter of
boundary transgressions and abuses of legitimate science and to
distortions of, and interferences with, the whole scientific enter-
prise, which I regard as the very essence of scientism and to
which I referred in the opening paragraph of my paper.
Corresponding to the three aspects of the value problem-the
value of science, value in science, and value for science-I dis-
tinguish three areas in which scientism may be encountered. It lies
in the nature of things, however, that the abuses and distortions
encountered in one area may overlap other areas as well, or may
even entail scientism in all areas together. Where matters are
fluid, as they are in this case, it can be only a distortion of facts
if we insist upon too rigid separation. Nevertheless, the distinc-
tions I have in mind will clarify the picture and may well be
useful in erasing some of its worst features. At least we shall
then know that the term "scientism" is itself a somewhat am-
biguous, abstraction.
That exact and dependable knowledge in any area of investiga-
tion has immense value-..;in itself (as providing a better under..
20 Scientism and Values
standing of the world we live in) and in its practical aspects
(as providing a basis for policy decision)-need not be stressed
again. This legitimate value of science is distorted, however, when
Science-with the capital "S"-is enthroned as an Authority in
whose presence we are expected to genuflect and whose mere
mention in connection with a product or a cause is meant to
persuade us of the latter's excellence. This type of distortion of
the value of science culminates quite logically in the conception
of a "technocracy" as the ideal of societal living.
Scientism-and scientism of a radical and profoundly sig-
nificant type-arises with the problem of values in science. As I
have repeatedly stressed in this paper, it is in the nature of
science to be concerned ultimately with the quantitative and
material aspects of reality only. Physics and chemistry legitimately
restrict themselves to this sphere. That there are aspects even of
human society which are amenable to quantitative analysis need
not be denied. Scientism here me.ans that only value-free concepts
are to be employed in the interpretation of the human situation,
and that man himself is to be reduced-via a behavioristic
psychology-to a purely physicochemical complexus of inter-
related processes amenable to a complete explanation in terms of
the value-free concepts and categories of the natural sciences. In
other words, scientism here emerges as a reductionistic naturalism
which denies in principle that there are irreducible values or that
values, if they do exist, have any significance whatever. The pic-
ture of man which here emerges, and which is inherent in the
scientistic boundary transgressions that would extend the value-
free concepts of the natural sciences to encompass the whole of
knowledge, is frightening indeed in. its distortions of man. But it
becomes even more so if now it is combined-as quite naturally
it is-with the projection. of a technocracy as the ideal of a human
society.
The third type of scientism, arises in connection with the prob-
lem of values, for science-in connection, that is, with the value
framework within which science itself operates. As I pointed out
earlier, this framework involves, on the one hand, that complexus
of values and valuations usually referred to as "standards of re-
Social Science and the Problem of Value 21
search." But it involves, on the other hand, also personal and
societal biases and ideological prejudices. Scientis,m here m,eans
the intrusion of ideological biases and personal prejudices,-
usually in a more or less subtle way-into the enterprise of science
itself. The problem here is most acute as a quest for objectivity.
Even if we grant-as I think we mugt-that ultimate or absolute
objectivity is beyond human reach, still the effort must at least
be made to state clearly our presuppositions and indicate our basic
valuations, and not to let prejudice and ideological concern distort
our findings as scientists or as philo,sophers, as the case may be.
NOTE
1. "Theory Construction and the Problem of Objectivity," in Symposium on
Sociological Theory, Llewellyn Gross, editor '(Evanston: Row, Peterson
and Company, 1959).
2
Objectivity and Social Science
w. T. COUCH
The thesis of this paper is that the idea widely prevailing
among social scientists that the social scientist knows how to
proceed impartially, that he knows how to counteract or get rid
of bias in his work, is an illusion.
I
The problem of impartiality, as everyone knows who has con-
cerned himself seriously with the idea, is a part of the problem
of objectivity. Objectivity, it might seem, has to do with objects.
But the term "object" has been applied to everything from the uni-
verse, and the stars and chairs and dogs and mathematics and logic
that are in it, to the completely private and wholly subjective
notions of individual persons. Everything that has existed, whether
its existence has been private or public, has constituted an object
if existence is taken as the definition of objectivity. But this defi-
nition is obviously unsatisfactory. It leaves no room for dis-
tinguishing between objectivity and subjectivity. Now, if we
persist with sufficient zeal in the effort to get a satisfactory defi-
nition, we shall discover that we are not the first to have this
interest. Plato had it. And Aristotle. And St. Augustine and
Thomas Aquinas and Descartes and Locke and Hume and Kant
and Hegel and Kierkegaard and a host of others.
22
Objectivity and Social Science 23
The problem of objectivity is indistinguishable from the prob-
lem of reality. It involves such questions as: What is the universe
made of? Where did this something come from? Has it always
existed or was it cre.ated? What is change, does anything new come
into existence with it, and how does change occur? What is
permanence, and could there be any change unless. there were
permanence? What are past and future, and how much do we
know of what we are talking about when we talk about them?
In addition to questions of being and of the sources and nature
and purposes of being, objectivity involves two other classes of
questions. One of these has to do with the problem of correct
method in dealing with any question. This is the field of logic.
The third has to do with the question how we know anything.
This is the field of epistemology.
We are not bringing any new knowledge into the world when
we say these things. They are, or ought to be, well known, and
there would be no excuse for taking time to talk about them here
if all of the important assumptions of modern scholarship and
science were practiced as well as preached. One of the most im-
portant of these assumptions is that learning is a co-operative
effort, that the field in which labor is needed is so large and
diverse that division and specialization are required, and that
work in one field may safely be used as a foundation for work in
another. It will be shown here that there is room for grave doubt
about the last clause in this, assumption.
In the field of epistemology, the questions that may be asked
may be regarded as comprising three classes. One has to do with
extension and motion and figure and number, generally referred
to as the primary qualities of objects. One has to do with color
and odor and sound and taste and tactile impressions, generally
referred to as the secondary qualities of objects. And one has to do
with all such matters as fairness, impartiality, justice, and good-
ness, which are commonly referred to as values. But what value
is, whether it is a quality or a relation or something else; whether
it is a simple, unanalyzable, indefinable, nonnatural something;
whether it is created by interest and conferred by interest on
objects-all are questions of extreme controversy.
24 Scientism and Values
The status of value is far less certain and far more obscure than
the status of objects. The status of objects, if we accept modern
science, is so uncertain and obscure as to render worse than worth-
less any term such as "objectivity" that depends on this status for
its meaning. If knowledge of objects is knowledge only of exten-
sion, motion, figure and number, as was assumed when the foun-
dations of modern science w'ere laid; if sense impressions are all
contributed by the subject; and if, as George Berkeley 1 pointed
out, objects can be seen only because they are colored, it follows,
if anything follows, that the status of both minds and objects in
science is such as to raise the question whether rational discourse
is possible. Berkeley failed to take into account the consideration
that if objects existed only in minds, as he held, one could close
and open his eyes without having any effect whatever on the visi-
bility of objects. And if there is any such process as proof that
involves the world-as distinguished from proof that has to do
only with words that have no necessary connection with the world
-then the fact that when one closes one's eyes objects disappear
is proof that objects exist outside of human minds.
It would be fatuous to assume that because Berkeley did not
take these considerations into account, he was unaware of them.
His attention was focused on the more important consideration
that modern science was undermining the foundations of rational
discourse. His object was to keep modern science and at the same
time restore the foundations.
Berkeley insisted on the one implication, assuming the validity
of the work of Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes, and Newton, that
was necessary to save man from a situation in which it 'Y0uld ap-
pear to be warranted to say that something both is and is not at
the same time and in the same way, and that two persons may see
something truly and yet see it as something totally different. Berk-
eley's insistence that modern science necessarily implies a mind
that contains everything, that maintains everything in existence,
that sees everything truly as it is, is, among other things, a way
of insisting that rationality is available for the government of the
universe and that the effort of man to understand and participate
Objectivity and Social Science 25
in this rationality and govern himself by it is not utterly hopeless.
Berkeley held, as everyone has had to hold who has proceeded
rationally, that man cannot create rationality out of nothing. If it
is to be available to him at all, it must be made available to him
by some power not his, own.
It is impossible to accept modern science and at the same time
save objectivity in any sense that distinguishes it from subjectivity
unless Berkeley's implication is accepted.
Modern science, all of us know or ought to know, has not
accepted Berkeley's implication. It has swallowed camels in the
way of implications and, with the exception of a very few thinkers
like Alfred North Whitehead, has refused to have anything to do
with this gnat. Whitehead saw clearly that Berkeley's implication
was necessary to save rationality as well as objectivity, and, being
devoted to both, he did not hesitate to accept it. But on this point
Whitehead is not generally accepted. Modern science, as a conse-
quence, remains in the bog of subjectivity into which Copernicus
and Galileo and Descartes led it. Modern phenomenology has not
solved this problem. If the bias which pervades modern science
is to be eliminated, it is necessary to hold that "what Hume gave
to Kant as a problem Kant handed back unchanged as, the solu-
tion." 2 The followers of Kant-and not to follow Kant is to be
in a negligible minority-have either buried the problem or
evaded it. In this situation, the use of the term "objectivity" or
equivalent language is indulgence in a practice for which primi-
tive people who have no chance to know better could he excused,
but for which the modern social scientist has no excuse. Dorothy
Emmett, in her Nature of Metaphysical T h i n k i n g ~ 3 correctly char-
acterizes this practice: "If we confine ourselves to a purely phe-
nomenalist account of perception, any assumption concerning an
external world would be an animistic projection, since on this
view sense data are subjective states."
Now, hopelessly confused as is the problem of objectivity in the
sense of the real existence of the external world, the problem of
value is incomparably more confused.
No one doubts that objects, whatever their status in existence,
26 Scientism and Values
have primary qualities. No one doubts that there are correlates of
such linguistic expressions as "chair," "table," "this person," etc.,
even though the questions how the correlates exist and how it is
that this existence is public and there can be communication
about it are in a state of extreme confusion. No one doubts that
there are correlates of such linguistic expressions as "yellow,"
"stench," "buzzing," "s.weet," "soft." Despite all confusion, it is
possible to point, or seem to point, to objects that exemplify, or
seem to exemplify, primary and secondary qualities, and scientific
means and standards are available for determining the relations
of these qualities to objects, whether the objects are in minds, or
in the external world or in both or are distributed among and
between the two or have some other unknown and perhaps un-
thinkable status.
The situation is entirely different in regard to the question of
value. Here there is doubt about the existence of correlates. It is
possible, as we have seen, to verify statements about objects such
as chairs and tables in so far as these statements involve primary
and secondary qualities. But what of such statements as "This is
good" or "This is bad"? "The question really at issue," wrote G. E.
Moore more than a quarter century ago in his essay on the "Na-
ture of Moral Philosophy,"
is the question whether when we judge (whether truly or falsely) that
an action is a duty or a state of things good, all that we are thinking
about the action or the state of things in question is simply and solely
that we ourselves or others have or tend to have a certain feeling
towards it when we contemplate or think of it.... If this view be
true.... when I say "That was wrong" I am merely saying, "That sort
of action excites indignation in me, when I see it"-and when you
say "No; it was not wrong," you are merely saying, "It does not excite
indignation in me) when I see it." ...
"If this view be true," concludes Moore, "then there is absolutely
no such thing as a difference in opinion on moral questions." 4
David Hume stated the same problem when he wrote in his
Treatise on Human Nature:
Objectivity and Social Science 27
Take any action allowed to be vicious: wilful murder, for instance.
Examine it in all lights and see if you can find that matter of fact, or
real existence, which you call vice. In whichever way you take it, you
find only certain passions, motives, volitions and thoughts. There is
no other matter of fact in the case. The vice entirely escapes you, as
long as you consider the object. You never can find it, till you turn
your reflexion into your own breast, and find a sentiment of disap-
probation, which arises in you, towards this action. Here is a matter
of fact; but 'tis the object of feeling, not of reason. It lies in yourself,
not in the object. So that when you pronounce any action or character
to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of
your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the con-
templation of it. Vice and virtue, therefore, may be compar'd to
sounds, colours, heat and cold, which, according to modern philoso-
phy, are not qualities in objects, but perceptions in the mind.
5
In another passage Hume makes it clear that according to this
same modern philosophy, vice and virtue cannot consist in rela-
tions any more than they can in qualities of objects. But if they
do not consist in either qualities or relations, the question arises
whether they exist at all. The thing that John Donne saw when
over three hundred years. ago he looked at the direction modern
science was taking and wrote:
'Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone
All just supply and all relation....
Sight is the noblest sense of anyone,
Yet sight hath only colour to feed on,
And colour is decaid; summer's robe growes
Duskie, and like an oft dyed garment showes.
Our blushing red, which used in cheeks· to spred
Is inward sunk, and only our soules, are red 6
the modern social scientist has not yet seen in spite of his concern
with physical science as a model of what all science should be.
The view that color and odor and sound and taste and tactile
qualities are all in the subject, none in the object, if any, that
somehow gives rise to them, is ancient. Montaigne summarizes this
view in a classic statement at the end of his famous "Apology for
28 Scientism and Values
Raimond Sebond." But this view was only beginning to have scien-
tific significance in Montaigne's time. The only important oppos-
ing view, that of Aristotle, was still dominant when Montaigne
was writing. The Aristotelian view is the only systematically ob-
jective one that the world has had. The basis for displacing it with
the subjective view of modern science was being laid during the
hundred years before and after Montaigne wrote his, essays.
The position of physical science in the twentieth century is
completely in line with the trend started by Copernicus and Des-
cartes, Galileo and Newton. Alfred North Whitehead summarizes
this position:
. . . the mind in apprehending also experiences sensations which,
properly speaking, are qualities of the mind alone. These sensations
are projected by the mind so as to clothe appropriate bodies in exter..
nal nature. Thus the bodies are perceived as with qualities which in
reality do not belong to them, qualities which in fact are purely the
offspring of the mind. Thus nature gets credit which in truth should
be reserved for ourselves; the rose for its scent: the nightingale for
his song: and the sun for his radiance. The poets are entirely mis..
taken. They should address their lyrics to thems.elves, and should turn
them into odes of self-congratulation on the excellency of the human
mind. Nature is a dull affair, soundless, scentless, colorless; merely the
hurrying of material, endlessly, meaninglessly.?
"However you disguise it," says Whitehead, "this is the practi-
cal outcome of the characteristic scientific philosophy which closed
the seventeenth century." And, he says,
It is still reigning. Every university in the world organizes itself in
accordance with it. No alternative system of organizing the pursuit of
truth has been suggested. It is not only reigning, but it is without
rival.
"And yet," adds Whitehead, "it is quite unbelievable." 8
Whether it is believable or not, one thing is certain. This state-
ment of Whitehead's shows what an animistic hash the objectivity
is that the social sciences get from the physical sciences. It shows
Objectivity and Social Science 29
the physical world with nothing whatever in it that could even
remotely be imagined as a correlate for fairness and impartiality,
justice or injustice, good or evil, nothing that even suggests value.
The point here for our purposes is that if all moral questions
are illusory, if the feelings that people have about such matters as
justice and good and evil and right and wrong have no correlates,
if the nature of things is such that there cannot be any moral cor-
relates either in states of affairs or states of mind, it is obvious
that the pretension of the social scientist to objectivity as fairness
or impartiality or justice is merely testimony concerning the state
of his feelings, and, so far as the states beyond his feelings are
concerned, his claim is wholly illusory. The social scientist lives
in a world in which conflicts of world-wide proportions are occur-
ring over what people imagine to be justice. He has made impor-
tant contributions to the idea that these conflicts are really about
justice. But when he is asked what this justice is, he is unable to
say anything that is distinguishable from the appeal of the dema-
gogue to the mob. And this is not all.
One of the chief accomplishments of the social scientist during
the last century or so has been to help undermine the notion that
ideas of good and evil, better and worse are more than mere va-
grant feelings. The charge that the social scientist wants to have a
piece of moral objectivity, and that he has been preaching that
there is no moral objectivity to have a piece of and that there
cannot be any, is serious, and I now turn to evidence bearing on
this charge.
II
The discussion that follows will seem to the reader petty un-
less he remembers that we are concerned here with problems of
more than ordinary importance and that one of the first questions
we have to ask of a piece of writing that is presented to the world
as a contribution to knowledge is: Does the author know what he
is talking about? Has he succeeded in understanding what he says?
Has he solved the problem of reasoning, of communicating with
himself?
30 Scientism and Values
Ruth Benedict's Patterns of Culture 8 has been one of the most
popular books to come from the field of the social sciences during
the last quarter century. In addition to being extremely popular,
as evidenced by more than a dozen printings in cheap editions,-
each of which could hardly have been less than 100,000 copies-
it has received the accolade from leading social scientists. We take
it as an example because of its distinction in these respects.
On page 2 of Patterns of Culture} Miss Benedict says, "No man
ever looks at the world with pristine eyes." Now, "no man," is a
great many people; in fact, it is everybody; and "ever" is a long
time. In the sentence which follows Miss Benedict makes a typical
statement of the principle of social causation, the principle that
says that we are what we are because of the society into which we
are born. Miss Benedict does not take into account the fact that
if social scientists succeed in getting outside of social causation,
this fact has to be explained; and, if they do not, her book is
merely an example of the fact that some societies produce people
who, as a consequence of social causation and for no other reason,
busy themselves with the "study" of other societies, and otherwise
these studies are meaningless. It could be a matter of some sig-
nificance to know that some people in some societies do get out-
side of social causation and, as a consequence, may be able to see
the world and man as they really are. If this happens, to know
how it happens could be a step to s o m ~ real knowledge in social
SCIence.
Miss Benedict tells the reader on page 1 that "To the anthro-
pologist, our customs and those of aNew Guinea tribe are two
possible schemes for dealing with a common problem. . . ." It
is hardly possible for us to doubt this, and we wonder why Miss
Benedict says it. At first it appears she is telling us we have no
real reasons for thinking one way of doing things is any better
than another. It does not take us long to see that she does not
know what she is saying when she says this. For it can hardly be
open to dispute that on a rational basis it makes all the difference
between science and not science how things are done. If this were
not the case, there would be no reason for having anthropologists,
much less for taking them seriously. All of us know better than
Objectivity and Social Science 31
to be taken in by the argument that one way of doing carpentering
or plumbing or electrical work is just as good as another. The
support that we give to schools and colleges, to the cultivation of
knowledge and skill in all fields, stands as testimony to our belief
that there are better and worse ways. of doing things.
Why does Miss Benedict feel it necessary to write as if she
equates primitive ways with civilized ways? Does she really intend
to maintain this equation? If she does, it is impossible to under-
stand her repeated arguments for a "rational social order" based
on what she calls a "realistic social faith." Why, if Miss Benedict
really believes that the "patterns of life which mankind has created
for itself" are "equally valid" and should all be tolerated, as she
says at the end of her book, does she speak on page 4 of her first
chapter of "battles we may fairly count as won"? The truth is,
and Miss Benedict makes this as clear as it is possible to make
anything, she is writing to help destroy what she regards as preju-
dice in the United States and to establish what she regards as a
"rational social order." Now when Miss Benedict does this, she is
simply doing what all the rest of us d ~ , trying to maintain what
we think is the best way of doing things. But whatever Miss Bene-
dict's purpose, we cannot accept her view that no people in the
world have developed better ways of doing things and at the same
time accept the view that some people have developed better ways.
Now, if we cannot agree on the principle used in our last sen-
tence, if we do not understand it and are not able or willing to
use it on our own arguments .as well as on Miss Benedict's, in our
opinion we are incapable of understanding anything and will re-
main incapable until we have mastered it. Until this principle is
understood, it is a waste of time and worse to discuss anthropology
or anything else but this principle.
Immediately after telling the reader that "To the anthropolo-
gist, our customs and those of aNew Guinea tribe are two pos-
sible social schemes for dealing with a common problem," Miss
Benedict goes on, "and in so far as he remains an anthropologist
he is bound to avoid any weighting of one in favour of the other."
This is the principle of objectivity in method. Does Miss Benedict
know what she is saying when she says this? "The study of cus-
32 Scientism and Values
tom," Miss Benedict tells us on page 3, "can be profitable only
after certain preliminary propositions have been accepted, and
some of these propositions have been violently opposed. In the first
place any scientific study requires that there be no preferential
weighting of one or another of the items it selects for its consid-
eration." This is the same principle of objectivity again. It is re-
peated at least a half dozen times in the first chapter, and, in our
opinion, it deserves emphasis; but again, we have to ask, does Miss
Benedict know what she is saying when she says this? Does she
really mean that the anthropologist ought always to proceed in
such a manner that he cannot see and condemn the evils in soci-
eties such as Hitler's National Socialism or Stalin's or Khrushchev's
Communism? Does· she really mean to advocate no "preferential
weighting" against such things in societies as concentration camps?
If she does, then so far as we are concerned, she is using some-
thing labelled anthropology to cultivate something worse than
barbarism. If she does not mean this, how do we explain what she
says, and the fact that she says it over and over?
It happens that we are convinced that objectivity as fairness and
impartiality is essential to the proper development of social sci-
ence, but we doubt whether our words, or the word "objectivity,"
or such sentences as those that Miss Benedict utters in its place,
have any magical powers. Resolutions and ritual observances in-
volving the repetition of formulas that are not clearly understood
seem highly inappropriate to the sciences. But perhaps we are
wrong and Miss Benedict does somewhere elaborate on the mean-
ing of this principle to which she appeals, or perhaps some other
social scientist has done so; but we have searched and we have not
found any anywhere. We have found plenty of statements such as
those Miss Benedict utters, and all of them are virtual equivalents
of the definition given in Fairchild's Dictionary of Sociology that
objectivity 'is "The ability to detach oneself from situations in
which one is personally involved, and to view the facts on the
basis of evidence and reason rather than prejudice and emotion,
without bias or preconception, in their true setting."
It is evident, if we examine this definition, that objectivity con-
tains some problems. One of these is the meanings of words in the
Objectivity and Social Science 33
definition such as "fact," and "reason," and "prejudice," and
"bias," and "emotion," and "preconception." Shall we rely on our
untested conceptions of the me.anings of these terms-a practice
that has been condemned in scientific procedure for hundreds of
years-or shall we try to find and use scientific meanings?
Take, for instance, the terlTIS and "bias." If we as-
sume that it is possible to be unprejudiced and unbiased, we still
have some problems. We still have to demonstrate that this state
of mind is not equivalent to that which Kant 10 called "indifferent-
ism-the mother in all sciences of chaos and night." We have to
show that it is possible for some people to get outside of social
causation, and this has not been shown. We have to deal with such
arguments as that of Ralph Barton Perry that
It is characteristic of living mind to be for some things and against
others. This polarity is not reducible to that between "yes" and "no"
in the logical or purely cognitive sense, because one can say "yes" with
reluctance or be glad to say "no." To be "for" or "against" is to view
with favor or disfavor; it is a bias of the subject toward or away
from.
II
Perry does not say it is characteristic of some living minds to be
objective, or to be able to achieve objectivity, and of other living
minds to be for some things and against others. He says simply
that "it is characteristic of living mind to be for some things and
against others." If this is true, and if its application is universal,
and it contains no modifier saying that it isn't, bias is not only
universal, but there is no way of getting rid of it. In this case,
objectivity as absence of bias is a m,eaningless concept. And if we
are allowed the assumption that social scientists are people, this
applies to them as well as to others.
Finally, we need to know what happens to a feeling when we
detach it from ourselves for the purpose of examining it. If moral
feelings have no existence except in human breasts, as in Hume' s
argument and as in modern science, it is obvious the logical posi-
tivists are right and we are talking about nothing when we talk
about detached moral feelings.
34 Scientism and Values
III
Let us resume our examination of Miss Benedict as scientist.
On page 9 Miss Benedict tells the reader that "A. very little ac-
quaintance with other conventions, and a knowledge of how vari-
ous these may be, would do much to promote a rational social
order." Notice how in this statement on page 9 "a very little ac-
quaintance" is all that is necessary to take care of the argument
for social causation introduced on page 2 with the statem.ent that
"no man ever looks at the world with pristine eyes." However, let
this pass, and let us say immediately that we too are interested in
the idea of a "rational social order," but by this time we are begin-
ning to wonder whether we are supposed to accept these words as
words of magic and to assume that if we repeat them often enough
they will bring us what we want.
The effort to discover what a "rational social order" would be
did not start with modern social science. It is, in our view, any-
thing but evidence of rationality in social science that it should
be necessary to elaborate on this question. Miss Benedict could
have learned from many easily available sources that the question
of a rational social order is ancient. Let us take one of the many
possible early sources, the play Antigone by Sophocles, and show
how it poses the problem that Miss Benedict seems to think is
solved by three words. Here is an abbreviated outline of the play:
Antigone's brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices, have killed each
other in a battle before the gates of Thebes. Polyneices had in-
vaded his homeland with an armed force. Creon, after the death
of Eteocles and Polyneices, was next in succession to the kingship
and his first action as king was to issue a proclamation:
Eteocles, who died as a man should die, fighting for his country, is
to be buried with full military honors, with all the ceremony that is
usual when the greatest heroes die; but his brother Polyneices, who
broke his exile to come back with fire and sword against his native
city and the shrines of his fathers' gods, whose one idea was to spill
the blood of his blood and sell his own people into slavery-Poly-
Objectivity and Social Science 35
neices, I say, is to have no burial: no man is to touch him or say the
least prayer for him; he shall lie on the plain, unburied; and the birds
and the scavenging dogs can do with him whatever they like.I2
Creon is moved by feeling in conjunction with and guided by
a notion of law. Antigone is moved by the same. The difference
between Creon and Antigone that is relevant for our discussion is
in their notions of law. Creon as king in his proclamation makes
law. He does not make explicit something already in custom and
habit or the nature of things. He does not discover. He invents,
creates. Antigone says Creon's proclamation "was not God's proc-
lamation. That final justice that rules the world below makes, no
such laws." Antigone takes the position that the higher law says,
regardless of what Polyneices has done, he should be given decent
burial. Antigone is asserting what the evidence in the play says
Sophocles regarded as the objectivity of justice. Creon is denying
the objectivity and asserting the subjectivity of justice. Now the
important point for our discussion is that it is impossible to make
sense and hold both positions at the same time. Miss Benedict
holds both positions. There are no grounds, she tells us, for hold-
ing that the ways of one society are better than those of another.
At the same time she says there are grounds for holding that the
ways of one society are better than those of another. And what
are these grounds? Miss Benedict's notions of a rational social
order. Which, unless she shows that they are objective, may be
merely Miss Benedict's notions. She gives no evidence whatever
that she recognizes that there is a problem here.
One more example from the first few pages of the first chapter
of Patterns of C u l t u r e ~ On page 1, Miss Benedict tells, the reader
that "custom has not commonly been regarded as a thing of any
great moment." Since Miss Benedict's work is presented to the
public as that of a scientist, and since scientists are supposed to
pay scrupulous attention to facts, it is necessary to say that this
statement of Miss Benedict's is not true. She leaves out a large
body of important facts. Only one sample of many that are pos-
sible will be given here.
One of the most important collections of the various customs
36 Scientism and Values
of different peoples was made over two thousands years ago by
HerodotuS', the first historian whose works the modern world has
inherited. Now it happens, as everyone interested in custom ought
to know, that Herodotus not only gave the world an extensive
account of the customs of different peoples of his time and pre-
ceding times, but he also told a story about burial customs that
has long been famous, has been told and retold many times, and
illustrates the great problem of custom as well as any story that
could be told. The story is worth repeating here.
Darius, after he had got the kingdom of Persia, so Herodotus 13
tells us,
called into his presence certain Greeks who were at hand, and asked-
"What he should pay them to eat the bodies of their fathers when
they died?" To which they answered that there was no sum that would
tempt them to do such a thing. He then sent for certain Indians, of
the race called Callatians, men who eat their fathers, and asked them,
while the Greeks stood by, and knew by the help of an interpreter all
that was said-"What he should give them to burn the bodies of their
fathers at their decease?" The Indians exclaimed aloud, and bade
him forbear such language.
It is not recorded either by Herodotus or anyone else that as a
consequence of this experiment by Darius any progress was made
to-w'ard the establishment of a rational social order. It would be
possible, however, to interpret the work of Miss Benedict and
many of her colleagues in the social sciences as illustrating the
great principle discovered by Herodotus in his study of custom:
"I have no doubt whatever," says Herodotus,
that Cambyses was completely out of his mind; it is the only possible
explanation of his assault upon, and mockery of, everything which
ancient law and custom have made sacred in Egypt. If anyone, no
matter who, were given the opportunity of choosing from amongst all
the nations the set of beliefs which he thought best, he would inevit-
ably, after careful consideration of their relative merits, choose that
of his own country. Everyone without exception believes in his own
native customs, and that being so, it is unlikely that anyone but a
Objectivity and Social Science 37
madman would mock at such things. There is abundant evidence that
this is the universal feeling about the ancient customs of one's
country. 14
It is necessary only to make a few substitutions such as that of
"science" for "nation" or "country" to see how closely this state-
ment made more than two thousand years ago fits the modern
case. Most of us today worship science. There has never been a
time when so many people-communists and anticommunists,
national socialists and antinational socialists-were joined in one
worship and so convinced that the thing they worship is the thing
that will bring everybody the good things of life and therefore
ought to be worshipped.
Herodotus, it is clear, would have understood how it is that the
problem of Antigone and Creon, which we have outlined above,
is a perennial problem and how this problem arises out of the
nature of society and the effort to create a rational social order,
with or without the aid of social science.
Now we cannot say that for a person to communicate with him-
self or othe'rs he must have complete understanding of a subject,
for it is possible that every subject in the world is connected with
every other, and complete understanding or objectivity in this case
would call for knowing the whole truth about the world and
everything in it. But we can say and we can know as certainly as
we can know anything that we can't say something in one sentence
and deny it in another and make sense. If what we have said is
true, Miss Benedict does not make sense of a rational kind. The
kind of sense that she makes is of the irrational propagandistic
kind, a kind bound to lead away from rather than toward the
rational social order which Miss Benedict professes to want and
that all of us ought to want and work for.
IV
We do not have the space here to report and discuss in any
detail the allegations of social scientists concerning methods of
eliminating or counteracting bias in their work. The dodges are
38 Scientism and Values
numerous; but the most frequent procedure is either to use the
term "objectivity" or equivalents to invoke the thing that is
wanted. The assertion is never made in so many words that the
social scientist can call spirits from the vasty deep who will see to
it that his procedure is fair and impartial, but the pretension is
there nevertheless; and no one asks seriously, will they come merely
because they are called? The best discussion of the problem that
is available is probably Max Weber's, but it seems not to have
occurred to Weber or any of his followers that social science is no
better equipped to take value into account than it is to drop it
out, that it is necessary to know what value is before you can do
either, that the great achievement of economic theory lies pre-
cisely in its leaving the question of value to wholly subjective proc-
esses. Weber says that "all evaluative ideas are subjective." 15 "It is
simply naive to believe," he says, "although there are many special-
ists who even now do, that it is possible to establish and demon-
strate as scientifically valid 'a principle' for practical social science
from which the norms for the solution of practical problems can
be unambiguously derived." 16 That Weber went far toward rec-
ognizing the difficulty of the problem is clear. "The possible," he
said, "is often reached only by striving to attain the impossible
that lies beyond it." 17 He was obviously searching for a combina-
tion of empiricism and theory, and we 'cannot escape the convic-
tion that he was right in doing so. "The earliest intentionally
rational therapy," he said,
involved the almost complete rejection of the cure of empirical symp-
toms by empirically tested herbs and potions in favor of the exorcism
of (what was thought to be) the "real" (magical, daemonic) cause
of the ailment. Formally, it had exactly the same higWy rational
structure as many of the most important developments in modern
theory. But we do not look on these priestly magical therapies as
progress . . .1
8
And so Weber advises the social scientist to recognize that in
dealing with social problems he cannot escape the problem of
value, that he cannot know what he is doing unless he recognizes
Objectivity and Social Science 39
values and deliberately and openly gives them place in theoretical
systems or ideal .types which he can then use somewhat as the
physical scientist uses his mathematical formulas. But just how the
social scientist can take into account something that he is unable
to show in existence, Weber does not say. Yet what he does say,
and he says it clearly (if in accepting implications we d<;> not strain
at gnats while we swallow camels), is. that the social scientist has
no basis for his science but beliefs; and Weber's theory thus. has
the highly significant consequence of making social science a
function of belief.
It is not possible in a necessarily brief discussion to dispose of
all the puerile arguments on the subject of objectivity as fairness
and impartiality, but we ought not to overlook the prescription,
so blandly and so often given, that all we have to do is guide our-
selves by the relevant facts and logically sound inferences, from
facts. If this were as easy to do as it is to say, Miss Benedict would
not have made the elem.entary logical blunders that we have
shown she did make in her Patterns of Culture) and if it were easy
to recognize these hIunders social science would long ago have
become a more rational discipline. The failures of social science
are human failures. Let us now consider whether our understand-
ing of what a fact is, is any better than our understanding of the
first principle in logic.
v
It would be possible to interpret the case of Antigone as that
of an overwrought young woman whose "higher law" was a mere
projection of her fantasy and who, because she lacked the advice
of the modern psychoanalyst or psychiatrist, did not know any
better than to risk her life in an unne<::essary conflict with author-
ity over a meaningless burial custom. iPolyneices was dead. What
difference did it make what was done with his body? In a rational
social order, presumably, no one would be so foolish as to risk
his life to support one method of disposing of a dead body rather
than another. Antigone and Creon made the mistake of not being
born in a rational social order. In such an order facts of this
40 Scientism and. Values
nature would be looked on indifferently. But there are some facts
that if allowed to exist might threaten the existence of a rational
social order. Could a rational social order exist if no one was will-
ing to risk his life to keep such facts from coming into existence?
It is necessary in any reasonable examination of the problem of
objectivity to consider the possibility that both Antigone and
Creon were trying to discover the m.eanings of the facts that they
had before them and struggling to do what they felt necessary to
establish and maintain a rational social order.
But, it might be said, this is an ancient example and we have
not faced in it the question of the, meaning of fact. We have to
face this problem, so let us take a few samples of what has been
said in the last fifty years or so on the question what facts are. We
shall start with William James. James does not give us a definition,
but he speaks of facts as hard, stubborn, irreducible. "The tough-
minded," he says,
are the men whose Alpha and Omega are facts. Behind the bare
phenomenal facts ... there is nothing. When a rationalist insists that
behind the facts there is the ground of facts, the possibility of facts,
the tougher empiricists accuse him of taking the mere name and
nature of a fact and clapping it behind the fact as duplicate entity
to make it possible ...19
If we examine this statement seriously, we see that James re-
fuses to try to account for facts before their appearance and after
their appearance. James was doing essentially the same thing that
men do now when they repeat the proposition of Descartes,20 "I
think; therefore, I am," without considering that this formula,
when used as an article of faith today, cries for expansion into the
question: There was a time when I did not think; therefore if I
believe what I am told about myself and the world, I was not.
Now, I think; therefore, I am. I am approaching a state when
again, if I believe what I am told, I shall not think; therefore I
shall not be. But this is something coming from nothing and going
into nothing. This is a miracle. And I am told not to believe in
miracles. Is there anything that I can believe that makes sense?
Objectivity and Social Science 41
James saw his world as consisting of facts that, so far as his
explanations were concerned, appeared out of nothing and dis-
appeared into nothing.
At the time that James was writing, F. H. Bradley was also writ-
ing about facts from a totally different point of view. Bradley said,
"'By fact I mean either an event, or else what is directly experi-
enced. Any aspect of direct experience, or again of an event, can
itself be loosely styled a fact or event, so far as you consider it a
qualifying adjective of one ..." 21 "And," goes on Bradley, this
fact or event "must happen in a soul; for where else could it
exist?" 22 Bradley does exactly what James objects to. He claps the
fact into a soul to give the fact, as the condition of its appearance,
a place to exist before and after it is seen as a fact.
According to Alfred North·Whitehead, fact depends on point of
view.
Galileo said that the earth moves and that the sun is fixed; the In-
quisition said that the earth is fixed and the sun moves; and N ew-
tonian astronomers, adopting an absolute theory of space, said that
both the sun and earth move. But now we say that anyone of these
statements is equally true, provided that you have fixed your sense of
"rest" and "motion" in the way required by the statement adopted.
At the date of Galileo's controversy with the Inquisition, Galileo's
way of stating the facts was, beyond question, the fruitful procedure
for scientific research. But in itself it was not more true than the
formulation of the Inquisition.... Yet this question of the motions of
the earth and the sun expresses a real fact in the universe; and all
sides had got hold of important truths concerning it.23
And so it is in modern science: precisely the same fact is a fact or
is not a fact, depending on where you stand, and there is no
ground that can be taken and on which what is fact for one is fact
for all. There is no truth; only truths.
Let us now jump to definitions of recent years. "What, then,
are facts?" ask Cohen and Nage1.
24
"Are they, as is sometimes as-
serted, hypotheses for which evidence is considerable?" And they
say, "Whether a proposition shall be called a fact or a hypothesis
depends on the state of our evidence." It also depends, they might
42 Scientism and Values
have added, on the state of opinion on inductive proof. If the
present opinion that all the evidence has to be in continues, on
this basis we shall not know what a fact is until Gabriel blows his
trumpet. Cohen and Nagel, let us remind ourselves, are writing
about logic and scientific method. Their definition is, the one most
popular today in scientific circles. It is substantially the same as
that of the logical positivists. Theirs. is that "all propositions which
have factual content are empirical hypotheses. . . ." 25 Another
popular definition is that "a fact is an empirically verifiable state-
ment about phenomena in terms of a conceptual scheme." 26 This
may be criticized on the grounds that time does not stop and keep
phenomena lying around conveniently for statements about them
to be verified. The phenomenon, like murder, is something that
happens, and once it has happened it is part of the past and you
can't bring the murdered person back to life and have the mur-
derer do the job all over again in order to verify statements that
may have been made about the first occurrence. As a final sample
we shall mention those schools of thought to which facts are con-
figurations of particles, or of energized particles, or of particles of
energy, and to which scientific knowledge is mathematical equa-
tions correlating such configurations.
It occurs to us at this point, and the thought will not be re-
pressed, that the problem of objectivity now calls for the question:
Do any of these particles of energy have wings, and are some of
the wings white and others black? And then the thought comes, are
wings really necessary? And how many of these particles of energy
can dance on the point of a needle?
Now, in all seriousness, it is not necessary to reject this last
explanation of fact in the name of sanity. Plato was very close to
it, whether we follow Jowett in the view that Plato said, "The
definition of being is simply power," or Cornford, who translates
(Sophist 247E): "I am proposing as a mark to distinguish real·
things that they are nothing but power." The difference between
Plato and the modern social scientist is that Plato's theory of facts
was systematic, relatively complete, and remarkably consistent.
The same is true of Aristotle. The best we can get from the social
scientist today is such exhortations as to distinguish between what
Objectivity and Social Science 43
is and what ought to be and to keep the two separate and distinct,
and then, after his exhortations, h.e gives evidence that he does not
know what he is talking about.
The position of the social scientist who talks about objectivity
and facts today is indistinguishable from that of the hunter who
is telling his friends of his adventures.
27
One of the most exciting,
he says, is the occasion when he was completely surrounded by
wild animals. "How did you escape?" his friends ask. "I didn't,"
he replies. "They ate me up." And he continues talking and his
friends continue listening without showing any interest whatever
in the question how someone who has been eaten up can continue
talking.
VI
We have now shown what we' started out to show, namely,
that the assertion of the social scientist that he knows how to p r o ~
ceed impartially, that he knows the meaning of objectivity as fair-
ness and is able to apply this meaning in his work, is an illusion.
It remains only to suggest that the effects of this illusion are as
destructive in society as the action of a man who has lost his mind
and believes that he can walk out of an airplane that is in flight
and step safely on solid earth.
So far as this writer has been able to discover, very few social
scientists are aware that there is a problem of objectivity, that this
problem poses a test of r.ationality in its most crucial form, and
that this problem has not been solved by modern science and phi-
losophy because of a deep and ineradicable bias in both against
the one implication that is necessary to save rationality as well as
objectivity. It is not possible here to explore further the charge
that rationality has been lost along with objectivity. We shall take
space only to mention areas of tremendous importance in which
modern social science, instead of proceeding rationany and help-
ing to create the order and the understanding and the acceptance
of order that are possible and most desirable in the interests of the
general welfare, has given tremendous impetus to proceeding irra-
tionally and to the consequent increase of all the impulses and
44 Scientism and Values
conditions in society that are opposed to the general welfare. It
should not be necessary to say here that the pretension of social
science to stand for and to cultivate the general welfare is not a
self-vindicating one. It is held here that the power of the social
scientist in modern society is even greater than that of the physical
scientist. The power of the social scientist is the decisive power.
He, more than anyone else, created the state of mind in the United
States that led the people of this country to accept a policy that,
during the second of this century's world wars, turned a large part
of the world over to communism and resulted in the situation
under which, after the war, free society had to retreat or face a
third world war. He, more than anyone else, created the state of
mind that prior to and during the Second World War denied the
possibility of any choices. in the world other than those between
fascism and communism. He was completely unaware that his talk
about justice was empty and illusory and that in engaging in such
talk he was stirring up and adding to the destructive conflicts. that
he said he wanted to allay.
We shall now call on two distinguished social scientists to illus-
trate this problem. Robert M. MacIver illustrates it with crystal
clarity in his Web of Government as well as in other writings. We
shall refer here to only two passages of many that need examina-
tion. First, let us document the statement made above concerning
the attitude of the social scientist toward communism during
World War II: "... the successors of the Versailles states.men,"
writes MacIver, "dream vain comfortable policies of appeasement,
wishfully thinking that the growing fury can be diverted from
themselves toward Soviet Russia, the portentous. revolutionary
state they stupidly imagine to be the real menace." 28 This attitude
,vas general among social scientists during World War II. A few,
like Joseph Schumpeter, saw the truth in spite of the blinkers that
modern science had put on them; but what they saw has never
been passed on effectively to the general public, so deep is the
prejudice that has been built up against the truth in this matter.
It might be argued in extenuation for MacIver and the majority
of his colleagues that the leaders of the country in all walks of life,
and not merely the social scientists, held this attitude. But it has
Objectivity and Social Science 45
to be said that if the social scientist does not know better in regard
to questions that involve his science, as this question does, then his
science is a snare and a delusion.
Secondly, we shall docum,ent the statement that the social scien-
tist in talking about justice not only does not know what he is
talking about, but is stirring up and adding to destuctive conflict.
"Every society," says, Maclver,28 "is held together by a myth sys-
tem, a complex of dominating thought-forms that determines and
sustains all its activities. All social relations, the very texture of
human society, are myth-born and myth-sustained.... When we
speak here of myth," he says,
we imply nothing concerning the grounds of belief, so far as belief
claims to interpret reality. We use the word in an entirely neutral
sense. Whether its content be revelation or superstition, insight or
prejudice, is not here in question. We need a term that abjures all
reference to truth or falsi ty.
It follows that every society to preserve itself has to preserve its
myth. MacIver eliminates the only possibility of mediation be-
tween myths when he says that in using the term "myth" he "ab-
jures all reference to truth or falsity." Under these conditions, the
role of the social scientist is necessarily limited to that of support-
ing and strengthening the myth of the society to which he belongs.
The fact that MacIver devotes much of his writing to searching
for a basis for mediation between the myths of different societies
does not alter the fact that he himself specifies conditions that
eliminate the only possible basis for such mediation.
MacIver's case is particularly instructive because his work is far
superior to most work in the social sciences. If he makes his own
way to the bog of subjectivity and falls in and stays in and does
not know where he is, it cannot reasonably be expected that other
and lesser minds can do better.
We now come to the second of our social scientists that we have
picked for illustrative purposes. We shall now take a brief look
at Gunnar Myrdal and his American Dilemma. First, let us ob-
serve that this work would not have been written without the
46 Scientism and Values
support of the Carnegie Corporation, one of the country's wealthi-
est foundations. The Carnegie Corporation gave Myrdal a com-
mission to produce a "wholly objective and dispassionate" 30 study.
Myrdal accepted the Carnegie Corporation's commission, but pro-
duced a work in which he says correctly that objectivity achieved
in the conventional ways, that is by rituals involving assertions and
resolutions, is not trustworthy.31 Myrdal, flouting his commission
-which certainly deserved to be flouted-argues. that it is the
duty of the social scientist to serve the ends chosen by the society
of which he is a member; he assumes that the United States is one
society; and he argues that the United States has chosen equality
as one of its ends. The difficulty with Myrdal's argument is that
in the context of modern science, a context which Myrdal accepts,
an appeal for equality is an appeal to power. Most of us want
equality, and the meaning that we give to equality is, all the power
that we have the power to get. We work for or against equality as
we think it works for or against getting power for us. Modern sci-
ence has made power and only power the supreme and the only
reality. All else is illusion. Freedom, equality, justice are in its
scheme only means of deception, and necessarily so. It would be
necessary to change the foundations of modern science in order to
have any other possibility. The social scientist in this view does
not necessarily engage in deception by intention. His use of de-
ception may be a consequence of his ignorance, or it may be a
consequence of his willingness to playa Machiavellian part.
It should not be surprising, when we have some understanding
of this problem, that in the two most destructive periods. in the
history of mankind, the periods of the two world wars of the twen-
tieth century, modern social scientists generally supported the
ends of their own societies and in doing so supported the destruc-
tion. The perennial enactment within and among societies of the
parts played by Antigone and Creon goes on and on, and the
meaning of the parts is utterly lost.
In summary, our argument reaches further than proof that the
social scientist's idea that he knows how to proceed impartially is
an illusion. It raises the question whether there is any illusion in
Objectivity and Social Science 47
modern society more destructive than this one. It takes no great
wisdom to see that if there is no genuine knowledge in the world
on moral questions, the social scientist makes a bad situation worse
when he supports the claims of various groups to what they imag-
ine are their rights without first finding a sound basis for rights.
The effect of such support is obviously to intensify strife within
and among societies.
NOTES
1. The gist of Berkeley's argument is in the first few pages of his Principles
of Human Knowledge. This work will be unintelligible to anyone un-
familiar with the foundations of modern science. Everybody knows, or
ought to know, that these were laid by Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes,
Newton-to name only a few of the leaders. What everybody does not
know-and everybody here includes most of the people working in the
sciences-is that when the foundations of modern science were laid, no
place was provided for anything objective as distinguished from subjec-
tive.
2. William Temple, Nature) Man and God (Macmillan, 1934, 1949), p. 74.
3. (Macmillan, 1945, 1949), p. 64.
4. Philosophical Studies (Humanities Press, 1951), p. 330.
5. Book III, Part I, Section I. The position taken by Herodotus is often
adopted in contemporary discussion without any recognition of the fact
that it was taken by him and by many others after him. Here, for in-
stance, is a passage from Dewey: "All that is needed is acceptance of the
view that moral subject matter is also spatially and temporally quali-
fied." (Reconstruction in Philosophy) New American Library Mentor
Book, Introduction, p. 13.) But, of course, this is not "all that is needed."
And so Dewey says further (p. 27): "Nothing is more intellectually futile
(as well as practically impossible) than to suppose harmony and order
can be achieved except as new ends and standards, new moral principles,
are first developed with a reasonable degree of clarity and system."
Obviously ends, standards, and moral principles that are not so spatially
and temporally qualified as to make a reasonable measure of harmony
and order impossible are what is needed. It is not clear that there is in
the world today any more knowledge of how to meet this need than
there was in the days of Herodotus and Sophocles. Dewty certainly
added nothing to this knowledge. His philosophy is, as Bertrand Russell
said, a power philosophy.
6. From the "First Anniversary."
7. Science and the Modern World (Macmillan, 1925, 1948), p. 80.
8. Ibid.
9. Page references are to the New American Library Edition.
48 Scientism and Values
10. From the Preface to the first edition of The Critique of Pure Reason.
11. The General Theory of Value (Harvard, 1926, 1954), p. 115.
12. The edition from which this is quoted is a superb example of the art
of translating and editing at its best. It is Greek Plays in Modern Trans-
lation, edited by Dudley Fitts (Dial Press, 1947).
13. Book III, ch. 37.
14. Book III, ch. 38.
15. Edward A. Shils and Henry A. Finch, eds., Max Weber on the Method-
ology of the Social Sciences (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1949), p. 83.
16. Ibid., p. 56.
17. Ibid., p. 24.
18. Ibid., p. 34.
19. Pragmatism (Longmans, 1943), p. 263.
20. Discourse on Method, Part IV.
21. Appearance and Reality (Oxford, 1940), p. 280.
22. Ibid., p. 282.
23. Science and the Modern WorId, p. 263.
24. Morris Cohen and Ernest Nagel, Introduction to Logic and Scientific
Method (Harcourt, Brace, 1934), pp. 217 f.
25. A. J. Ayer, Language
J
Truth and Logic (Dover, n.d.), p. 41.
26. L. J. Henderson, cited in Talcott Parsons, Structure of Social Action
(McGraw-Hill, 1937), p. 41.
27. Morris Lazerowitz, The Structure of Metaphysics (Humanities Press,
1955), p. 4. Lazerowitz uses the hunter story to illustrate what he charac-
terizes as "a likeness between many philosophical views and grotesque
fiction." The application of the story is far more general than Lazerowitz
suggests. The quotation that we have given from Whitehead on the
subjectivity of modern science is not only literally true of modern
science, but very few people in either modern science or philosophy
realize how deep the modern world is in the bog of subjectivity.
28. (Macmillan, 1947), p. Ill.
29. Page 4.
30. Author's Preface (Harper, 1944).
31. Appendix II, "A Methodological Note on Facts and Valuations in
Social Science." Myrdal's argument in this note is sorely in need of
extensive analysis. His superficiality is of a different type from that of
Miss Benedict. He uses "science" to conjure with, just as Miss Benedict
does. But unlike Miss Benedict, he sees the need for ethics in social
science. Yet here also he conjures. His ethics, by his own account, has
no mo{e relation to reality than do these marks on this paper. His
"ethics" is entirely arbitrary. It is, of course, within the power of man
to adopt an arbitrary "ethics," but it is not within his power to escape
the consequences. We see Myrdal's superficiality only when we see that
modern science has made the idea of objectivity wholly animistic and
that arguments such as that of Myrdal can be used to justify Nazism just
as well as what Myrdal argues for as the "American Creed." It is just
about the worst thing that could happen for the less fortunate people
of the United States and the rest of the world that the study of the
Objectivity and Social Science 49
problems of freedom and equality and justice should be conducted so
regularly at the superficial level at which Myrdal was content to make
his study. It is not possible to express a more severe criticism of social
science than to say that social scientists generally are content to work
at such superficial levels and seem unaware that there are any deeper
levels at which work needs to be done.
3
Science and the Studies of Man
ELISEO VIVAS
I
These notes intend to show that the disciplines fashionably
called at present "the behavioral sciences" are not scientific in the
sense that the physical and the biological sciences are scientific. It
is in the latter sense, in the sense we employ it in speaking of the
exact, the natural sciences, that I shall use the term "science." The
so-called behavioral sciences I shall refer to as the disciplines or
studies of man. It is a pity that we cannot call them collectively
"anthropology," thus providing ourselves with a much needed
term to refer to all the disciplines whose subject matter is anthro-
pos and the institutions that actualize and secure his values.!
But since I do not hold that the only valid knowledge is the
scientific, but believe that there is philosophical knowledge of a
substantive nature and that there is moral and religious knowledge
and, in a qualified sense, even aesthetic knowledge, it is not my
intention to disparage the studies of man. These disciplines attain
truth of their kind and have worth irrespective of whether or not
they employ the methods of the sciences.
Although in view of the Zeitgeist it would be naive to expect
the differences between the studies of man and the sciences to be
acknowledged, nevertheless it is important to be clear about them
because the studies of man, when they are thought of as scientific,
tend to develop a number of objectionable symptoms. Their lan-
50
Science and the Studies of Man 51
guage tends to become gobbledygook.
2
The matter accepted as· the
object of inquiry tends to be confined to those aspects of man and
his activities that can be handled quantitatively or at least objec-
tively. This would not necessarily be productive of harm were not
the assumption widely and uncritically accepted that the real is
only that which can be brought to the attention of the scientist.
This assumption is operative in academic psychology with harmful
consequences. We are told by men superbly equipped mentally
that man has no mind. The psychologist initially understands what
the statement means. Mind is not an entity in the sense in which
the liver or the lungs are entities. But soon the statement is taken
out of its context to mean that man's minding is a process, that
can be understood adequately by analogy with complex "thinking"
machines. The upshot is that subjective experience, what Santayana
called "the inward landscape," is first denied existence as a valid
object of inquiry and finally denied existence tout court. Those
who accept these denials do not stop to think what effects they
have on scholarly thought. Consider, for instance, that neither
Freud nor Rhine (whatever the ultimate judgment concerning the
validity of his speculations or experiments) could have even started
on his work had he taken the behaviorists seriously.3
Along with the acceptance of these denials comes the habit of
looking upon man as we look upon the other animals, simultane-
ously failing to realize the consequences of our change of attitude.
But we cannot maintain our self-respect if implicit in our approach
to ourselves and others lies the conviction that man is only that
which science says he is. And one of the consequences of a loss. of
self-respect is that the fiber of actual living is coarsened.
4
Other objectionable symptoms appear when we overlook the dif-
ference between the studies of man and the sciences. A false and
sometimes an utterly absurd quantification is introduced into sub-
ject matter that is not quantifiable. The triviality and the egre...
gious absurdity of the results thus obtained do not daunt the man
bent on such specious feats, since he does not take the slightest
pains to inquire what makes one subject matter quantifiable and
another not. This question, apparently, is not one that can be sen·
sibly asked, since, not being quantifiable, it is not itself a scientific
52 Scientism and Values
question. It must be, therefore, what misologists refer to as a "phil-
osophic" question-by which is meant one that no s,ensible man
would bother his head about.
Still another objectionable symptom appears when we overlook
the difference between science and the studies of man: the latter
become irrelevant to the human situation, since they are taken to
be value-free, pure. As a result .a number of consequences follow.
The distinction made by Aristotle between the theoretical and
the practical sciences is erased, and the studies of man become
irrelevant to the human situation, which presumably they were
initiated to elucidate. When it is acknowledged that they can be
applied in the way that the pure sciences can be applied, a facti-
tious problem appears, viz., the relation between fact and value,
between the pure science and the valuable ends that they are ap-
plied to secure. The ends are taken to be external to the science
and therefore considered arbitrary and unattainable by rational
suasion.
In moral philosophy and in the philosophy of religion, the con-
sequences of erasing the distinction between the theoretical and
the practical sciences are even worse. Philosophers of a positivist
and those of a linguistic orientation insist that their task is to
carry on a philosophical analysis and not to "preach" or "moral-
ize." The latter is considered demeaning, although sometimes the
need for it is verbally conceded. The immediate result of this doc-
trine is a kind of institutionalized schizophrenia, according to
which the. philosophic analysis of moral decisions is kept in one
compartment of the mind, hermetically sealed and inviolate, while
the actual life of the philosopher goes its way untouched by what
he knows or professes to know about morality. At a time when we
could use the maximum of intelligence in solving our practical
problems and still not have enough, philosophers take pride in
demonstrating, on the basis of an antiquated psychology and sim-
plistic dichotomies, that moral conflicts cannot, ultimately, be re-
solved rationally. If this were truly the case, one could not adduce
the disadvantages of this view as reasons for not accepting it. But
one would expect that responsible human beings would explore
Science and the Studies of Man 53
the alternatives in a wholehearted way and not be complacent
about what they take to be the truth, when it is so obviously one
that cannot improve our desperate pr.actical situation.
II
To show that the disciplines of man are not sciences, all one
needs to do is to point to the fact that while the physical and the
biological sciences are each one science, or a constellation of disci-
plines more or less interdependent in respect to subject matter
and in the process of reduction to one science through the exten-
sion and simplification of their laws, this is not the case with the
studies of man. There is no such thing as Marxist physics as dis-
tinct from capitalist physics. Pontecorvo can defect to Russia, but
the knowledge of physics he takes with him was developed in the
Western world. This is, true also of biology. When Lisenko, for
reasons external to the science of genetics, proposes. theories that
are in harmony with his political beliefs, there are means of show-
ing that his results are false-if, indeed, they are, which is some-
thing experts decide. But this does not hold for the disciplines of
man. Among them we do not find a science or several'sciences, but
innumerable schools at bitter war with one another, aiming, as it
seems to the outsider, for total victory and the unconditional sur-
render of the loser. At best these factions lack any kind of rela-
tionship with one another; at worst, and not infrequently, they
actually contradict one another.
Take psychology. The work of the Gestalt psychologists has not
been integrated with that of Hull and of Tolman and of Lashley
and Eysenck and the hundreds of schools of psychology that make
up the chaotic domain of that discipline. When we turn to depth
psychology the factionalism is even more obvious, the partisanship
among the various schools more rife and more embittered, and
the possibility of integration seems less likely. Recently a psycholo-
gist named Ruth Monroe published a book entitled Schools of
Psychoanalytic Thought) An Exposition) Critique) and Attempt at
Integration.
5
The one thing we can say in favor of this work, with.
54 Scientism and Values
out fear of contradiction, is that Dr. Monroe's amiable modesty is
not false, for all she succeeded in doing was to make the attempt
at integration. We have not yet heard that as the result of her at-
tempt Freudians and Jungians. have united with Adlerians and
with the followers of Rank and of Sullivan and of Horney and of
Fromm and the other schools in a grand ecum.enical fellowship of
integrated love and intellectual cooperation.
This is also true of sociology and of anthropology. Malinowski
has his school, and so has Radcliffe-Brown and Kroeber and any
one else who is anyone and some who are not.
In 1931, Radcliffe-Brown wrote:
It is impossible to reconcile the different theories with one another, or
even to discover principles of method about which there is general
agreement. To say nothing of theories of the derivation of culture
from a lost Atlantis or a lost Pacific continent, we are offered a choice
between the Egyptian theory championed in its latest form by Pro-
fessor Elliot Smith, or the theory of culture cycles of Graebner, or the
somewhat different theory of Father Schmidt, or that of Frobenius,
and I know not how many more. Each school goes its own way, build-
ing up its own hypothetical structure, not attempting to seek out
points on which agreement can be reached with others. The procedure
is often that of disciples of a cult rather than that of students of a
science.
6
And a little later Linton referred to the same situation. Falling
back on the youthfulness of the science, he tells, us that anthropol-
ogy is "unsure of its objectives" and that "this has resulted in the
development of a number of different schools." Although these
statements are over twenty years old, they apply to the contempo-
r.ary situation.
7
Obviously, where there are schools and no effective means ot
mediating among them and of integrating the results, there is no
one science, and where there is no one science, there is, properly
speaking, no science. If it is any comfort to the students of man,
we can say that their disciplines constitute a protoscience, an
Urnaturwissenschaft) out of which, it is· hoped, a science will come
in the fullness of time. Against hope there can be no argument.
Science and the Studies of Man 55
But at the moment we must admit that the presence of these fac-
tions and divisions is clear proof that conflicting differences of
opinion-for we cannot call them scientific be
subjected to the same kind of verification and invalidation to
which scientists submit their hypotheses.
I do not mean to assert that som.e, aspects of man and of his insti.
tutions are not susceptible of scientific treatment or of something
that makes the brave effort-all the more admirable because it is
so pitifully unsuccessful-to approximate the rigorous techniques
and procedures of the sciences. There is a great difference, for in-
stance, between Hobbes' or Hume's psychology and som.e are.as· of
contemporary psychology. And there is a great difference between
the accounts of primitive peoples brought back by missionaries
prior to the development of anthropology and the studies of con-
temporary anthropologists. It is easy, on the other hand, to exag-
gerate the difference between us and our prescientific ancestors,
and the reason is that we think of our studies of man as scientific
and of theirs as not scientific. But in quite a responsible sense the
H istoria general of Fr. de SahagUn has been called a rigorous, lin-
guistic and ethnographic account of early sixteenth-century Mex-
ico.
8
Still, when one has said the most that can be said for the sci-
entific status of contemporary studies, of man, the difference be-
tween them and the sciences remains. What aspects of man and of
his activities can be treated in a manner approaching that of the
sciences and what aspects cannot is; a question that cannot be an-
swered in an a priori manner; it is a strictly empirical, casuistic
question. But it is not a question that I expect to hear asked seri-
ously in my lifetime by students of man. There are not many men
in any generation who have the courage to challenge the Zeitgeist.
When scientific status is uncritically claimed for the studies of
man, the result is what, following Hayek, is known as "scientism."
And scientism is endemic in our culture--or so, for the moment,
it seems to be.
But scientism is not yet absolutely pandemic, and a number of
students of man can be cited who are fully aware that their disci-
plines are· not scientific in the sense in which I am using the term
in these notes. Let me cite two instances among the several that
56 Scientism and Values
have come to my attention. In an article entitled "Social Scientist:
Man Between," Robert Redfield, with the wisdom and modesty
those who enjoyed the privilege of his friendship expected of him,
acknowledged the differences between the social scientist and the
student of the humanities.
9
In psychology, Abraham Maslow has
courageously and, in my outsider's opinion, successfully tried to
inquire into phenomena in which the imitation of the methods of
the physicist is simply inconceivable.
When I say that physics and biology are sciences, I do not mean
that in any given science at a given time there are not stubborn,
unresolved problems about which scientists are in doubt. These
problems no doubt exist, and they are no doubt the source of dis-
agreements. But these disagreements seem to arise for the most
part, at least in the Western regions of the science, so to speak,
where the explorers are opening the land and no settlement has
yet taken place. Nor do they seem to be the source of the kinds
of schools or factions that we find in the studies of man.
I am aware that in biology there are unresolved problems that
seem to be cause for factionalism and cannot be said to be frontier
problems: there is a minority that holds that teleology and vital-
ism are unresolved problems-if they are two, and not essentially
one. The outsider is in no position to judge the merits of the solu-
tions proposed for these problems when they are formulated
within the domain of biology. All he can do is suspend judgment
on the ground that if these problems have been resolved success-
fully, it is difficult to see why reputable scientists continue to re-
ject the solutions offered. May not the reason be that these stub-
born problems are philosophic, and not scientific, and seem to
arise from causes similar to those to which the factionalism of the
disciplines of man can be traced, viz., the effort to deal with bio-
logical subject matter in the way in which the physicist deals with
his? However that may be, when allowance is made for these dis-
agreements, it still can be said in fairness that the factionalism that
is the normal condition in the studies of man does not exist in
anything like the same degree in biology.10
The preceding argument should carry conviction, although it is
external to the disciplines themselves. When it is advanced, stu-
Science and the Studies of Man 57
dents of man make two replies. With Linton they plead the youth
of their studies. When one remembers the rapidity of the develop-
ment of classical mechanics from Galileo to Newton, all this old
excuse does is to remind one of Oscar Wilde's epigram about the
United States: "America's youth is its oldest tradition." The sec-
ond reply is that what gives a discipline its status as a science is the
use of the scientific method, and since the studies of man use this
method, they are sciences. It is fair to reply to them that it is a
strange kind of subject matter that, when treated scientifically, pro-
duces no better results, in terms of agreement, than philosophers
produce. It is also fair to add that it is a question whether in some
of the disciplines of man scientific method in any but the most
rudimentary sense can be said to be applicable. Indeed, it might
not be useless to ask whether ((the scientific method" (as, distinct
from a variety of generalized techniques, procedures, and manners
of observation and correlation) is not the most successful canard
palmed off by philosophers on philosophically naive scientists-
but let me hasten to add that I would not dare ask this question,
for only madmen dare outrage the pieties of their fellow beings.
We must consider another difficulty that prevents the studies of
man from achieving the status of a science. The difficulty is not
encountered by all the studies of man; it is encountered only by
those that must reckon with value.
Let us first note the obvious fact that the student of man cannot
always exclude value from his discipline. The social scientist
(whether anthropologist or sociologist), the political theorist, the
depth psychologist, and the student of personality turn their work
into sheer triviality if they ignore the values of men. I know that
Freud asserted that the psychoanalyst is not interested in the morals
of his patient. But I take it that it is generally recognized today
that this is one point on which Freud was in error. For there seems
to be a close link between neuroses and morality, as Freud himself
clearly saw. I have not forgotten that since Spinoza's day many
philosophers have professed to be able to observe moral phenom-
ena scientifically-by which they mean, as the physicist observes
falling bodies. Hume alleged that his method was that of the physi-
cist and called on philosophers to follow his lead. And in our day,
58 Scientism and Values
as I have noted above, numerous moral philosophers-particularly
the positivists, those known as analytic philosophers, and the soit-
distant "metamoralists"-make the same assertion. I do not deny
that some observers are more objective than others. But the prob-
lem is not as simple as those who allege that values can be observed
objectively seem to think it is.
One fact that complicates the objective observation of values
is that the student has no means of observing values. but that which
is employed by anyone at any time, be he Tom, Dick, or Harry.
When Fortune characterizes Dobu culture, Ruth Bunzel observes
the Zuni, and Margaret Mead the Arapesh, they observe the values
that give these cultures their distinctive qualities in the very way
in which we observe one man's honesty or another's vanity. When
Miss Mead's observations are criticized, as they were by Thurn-
wald, because they were hurriedly gathered, she elaborates her
method and takes photographs and thus seeks to show that her
observations are valid. In other words, the anthropologist may em-
ploy highly elaborate methods in order to make sure that he has
interviewed a representative number of members of the commu-
nity he studies and that he has not, in haste, attributed to it traits
that are not there. But ultimately the judgment, "The Pueblos are
Apollonian," is grounded on the same procedures of observation
that enable me to say that Jphn is honest and Dick is vain. Photo-
graphs, adequate sampling, statistics, psychographs, personality
tests, and the rest of the apparatus the anthropologist employs to
avoid misreading the value traits he observes seek to validate the
grasping of a value or complex of values. But this must first be
grasped, nor can the observer grasp it in any other way than you
or I grasp it. If another anthropologist had disagreed with Fortune
-as I understand one did-about Dobu, the discussion would
have to be carried on in precisely the same terms we would carry
it on if you were to disagree with me about Tom's honesty. You
would point out certain actions of Tom that you have observed.
These are purely behavioral observations. You might say that he
invariably returns money loaned to him, even when the lender
forgets about the loan, and that you saw him return money to a
cashier who had "shortchanged" herself. And I would have to
Science and the Studies of Man 59
agree with you, or I would have to cite other actions of T'om
which, I would assert, override your judgment. This is to say that
when we discern value, we point to it, and when someone else does
not discern it where we point, we give the physical features to
which, as I am wont to put it, value is "anchored."
It should be noted, however, that value is not identical with the
physical traits to which it is anchored. And the reason for this is
that two men can agree thoroughly on the physical traits of an
object and disagree on its value. I doubt whether D. H. Lawrence
and Hemingway would have disagreed about what actually goes
on in a bullfight: what the picador and torero and the horse and
the bull did, how they behaved. But we know how deeply these
two writers disagree about the moral and aesthetic values of bull-
fighting.
It is true that the physicist also starts with objects and events of
ordinary experience, which is to say, with observations that can
be made either with the naked senses or with instruments that are
extensions of these. In this respect he cannot be said to differ from
the student of man. But sooner or later he finds ways of going
beyond the initially observable data and of correlating his subject
matter with scales and other instruments of measurement. How he
does this beyond elementary physics I do not exactly know except
in the vaguest way. But that he does it I believe I know. It is
necessary to bear this in mind, for it points to the difference be..
tween the objectivity of the scientist and that which the student
of man can achieve. Scientific data, even when not quantifiable,
are thoroughly public, are objective in the sense that there need
be no question concerning their presence within the purview of
observation. The values observed by the student of man cannot be
freed from inherent vagueness. When we speak of the Apollonian
character of a !=ulture, we cannot be certain that all of us are
talking about the same thing--even if, after reading Miss Benedict,
we backtrack and read Nietzsche also.
ll
These considerations are not intended to deny that there are
cases in which value can be correlated with objective, value-free
data--money or work done or some other physical event or feature
of things objectively observable--but the limitations of such cor-
60 Scientism and Values
relations .are too obvious to need going into them. Again, we may
be able to discover a man's or a group's values by means of psycho-
logical tests. But aside from the fact that the reliability of these
tests is at the moment a controversial matter (for in principle they
need not be unreliable), their radical defect, from the standpoint
of our discussion, is that they cannot dispense with the definition
of the value and its observation and its relation to behavioral
traits expressed in the answers to the tests. We cannot judge the
presence of a value without apprehending it to be present, and
we cannot apprehend it except through the act of intuition
through which it makes itself present to us as an intelligible ob-
ject. From the standpoint of the kind of objectivity which is repre-
sented by the judgments that make up the sciences, the study of
value is, so to speak, born with an original sin that no methodo-
logical baptism seems to be able to absolve it from. Let me add,
however, although only in passing, that this does not make value
judgments hopelessly subjective, mere expressions of affective re-
sponses which in principle are beyond rational suasion. They can
achieve, and often do, a remarkable degree of objectivity. But
what kind of objectivity is achieved and what degree and by what
means are not questions that I can address myself to in this paper.
This does not exhaust our difficulty. The preceding remarks
refer to the difference between the objects of science and the ob-
jects with which the student of man is concerned. But there is
another difference, and that is located in the nature of the observ-
ers. This difference is pointed out by Robert Redfield in the paper
referred to above. I shall let Redfield speak for himself: The dif-
ference between what I call a scientist and a student of man, lies,
for one thing, in the fact that the latter observes values, and he
... enters imaginatively into the minds of the value·-carrying human
beings he studies. To understand another's value, I exercise my own
valuing nature. Moreover, I come to see that this valuing of mine, as
I work, is a part of my problem of observation and analysis. It has to
be thought about and controlled. The social scientist no longer sees
himself as a special kind of machine studying other things conceived
as machines, but as· a human being bringing to his study value judg-
Science and the Studies of Man 61
ments of which he may take account in accomplishing his. work.
Today one hears, without a sense of shock, one anthropologist say to
another, "a value-free anthropology is an illusion." 12
This is well said. All of it is true. But as regards Redfield's pic-
ture of how the student of man sees himself, one may be allowed
to express doubts. Redfield was no man to fall into imprudent
exaggerations. Nor can I match my superficial and scanty knowl-
edge of anthropologists with Redfield's. But his statement leaves
me ,vondering whether he was pointing to a fact or expressing a
hope. For I have heard anthropologists claim for their discipline
the status of a science. And I have also heard sociologists make the
same claim. And to my dismay, it has come to my attention that
students of politics, whom until recently I had ignorantly taken
to be free from scientism, are introducing into their discipline the
methods and the procedures the employment of which turns a
discipline into scientism.
But if Redfield's statement describes correctly the attitude of
anthropologists toward their discipline, something follows, the
importance of which cannot be exaggerated: We are in a position
to return, if not to the identical distinction, at least to a distinc-
tion similar to that made by German philosophers between the
sciences of nature and those of the spirit. If and when and to the
extent that this distinction becomes accepted, scientisIJl will be
dead.
But these are not the only obstacles that prevent us from giving
the studies of man the status of a science. Were we able to appre-
hend values with the same degree of objectivity that we apprehend
the traits observed in the objects of the sciences, and were the stu-
dent of man capable of keeping his own valuations out of the
subject matter observed, and were we able to make invariant corre-
lations of an adequate nature between values and physical struc-
tures, our observation of the values espoused by an individual and
a group would have, as regards susceptibility to scientific treat-
ment, one inherent and ineradicable limitation. In principle pre-
diction is impossible about v.alues to be espoused in the future.
Only on a simplistic assumption of a thoroughgoing cultural or
62 Scientism and Values
some other kind of determinism could prediction be depended
upon. Having said this much, I shall drop the point, for a full elu-
cidation of it would plunge us into the difficult problem of free-
dom, and from such a plunge we cannot be sure to return.
Another obstacle that prevents us from giving the studies of
man the status of a science"-or perhaps another formulation of the
point just stated-is that some predictions in the field of these
studies can be nullified or realized by the operative force of the
prediction upon the matter which is the subject of study. Thus,
the prediction that the stock market will fall tomorrow could lead
to its fall-if stockholders took the prediction seriously. And the
announcement that a given neighborhood will turn into slums
could lead, if taken seriously by the inhabitants of the neighbour-
hood, to just the condition predicted.
Before we drop this subject, it is advisable to make two remarks.
The first is that I am not asserting unqualified freedom, as some
philosophers seem to assert. Such an assertion, were it true, would
make impossible the development of character, the development
of neuroses, and the art of'mental healing, and even human living.
The institutions of society are possible because, within limits, men
can be relied on, and they can be relied on because their behavior
can be conditioned.
The second remark is that the qualification I have just made as
regards freedom may seem unimportant to anthropologists who
study custom-bound societies and who approach their data in an
ahistorical manner. In such societies men do not seem, to be free.
Their values do not seem to change. Predictions about the Aruntas
are possible-if the pictures we have of them are true. But the
number of groups as static as the Aruntas is not great in the world
and is diminishing rapidly; alas, we are running out of primitives,
as we ran out of dodos.
In dynamic societies in which freedom is operative in moral
judgments, prediction is not possible. We can know what men
have done; we cannot always know what they will do. For when
a man asks the question seriously, What ought I to do? to the
extent that the perplexity that gave rise to the question is radical
Science and the Studies of Man 63
and to the extent that the man confronted with It IS, a serious
moral agent, the resolution of his perplexity is unpredictable.
The upshot of these considerations is that the studies of man
cannot be considered "scientific" in the sense in which I am using
the word in this paper.
III
The claim that man can be studied scientifically is based on
one assumption, among others, that should be examined critically.
I refer to the conviction, widely shared by students of man and by
philosophers, that the hypothesis of organic evolution accounts for
the origin of man and of his cultural institutions. How this con-
viction came to be widely accepted by educated people after Dar-
win and what results, it led to in the studies of man it is not neces-
sary to review here. Nor do we need to review the arguments Boas
employed to put a stop to the freewheeling of evolutionary anthro-
pologists. What we need to consider is that anthropologists are
embarrassed by the problem of human origins.
In 1949, S. F. Nadel asserted that "a search for origins which is
purely speculative and unsupported by genuine historical evidence
can be dismissed out of hand." In support of this statement Nadel
quotes Radcliffe-Brown. On the other hand, in his Presidential
Address to the American Anthropological Association, Hallowell
raised the question about human origins and attempted to answer
it.
13
We do not need to examine Hallowell's answer. All we need
do is to point out that it is a purely speculative effort founded on
definitions, generalizations, and inferences, all of which assume
that man must have evolved from an earlier form of life. Anthro-
pologists and students of man in general give their readers the
impression that they know, in the sense in which the scientist
knows, that man is an animal and that his cultural institutions are
the product of evolution. This conviction appears to many edu-
cated men today to be an irrefragable truth, so well established as
to require no further proof. And this is, indeed, the case as regards
the manner in which it is accepted: if truth were decided by the
64 Scientism and Values
majority vote of those who concern themselves with such questions
-the educated-this statement would be as indisputably a truth
as any we have.
It is this conviction that I propose to analyze in this section. But
before we turn to our problem let me reiterate that biological evo-
lution is not in question. It takes an utterly ignorant man or a
hard fundamentalist impervious to evidence to reject the evolu-
tionary hypothesis. However, we do not know how man developed
his capacity to think and to rear his institutions. And until we
have ans,vers to these questions, there is a break between animal
evolution and the process of human history as we know it. This
break can be bridged only by means of speculations that, were
they offered by a theologian or a religious man, would be hooted
at by genuine scientists and by scientistic scientists.
In order to examine this question in concrete terms I shall use
two illustrations of extrapolations from biological to cultural evo-
lution. The first illustration I take from a book written for the
general reader by an anthropologist whom I take to have achieved
distinction in his profession, judging by the position he occupies.
Mr. Carleton S. Coon, we are informed by the jacket of his book,
is a professor of anthropology and curator of ethnology at the Uni-
versity of Pennsylvania. He tells us that:
More than twenty million years ago, long before the first appearance
of man on earth, his remote tree-living ancestors took their first step
in a human direction. Somewhere in the tropical regions of the earth,
probably in Africa, a band of large monkeys lived in a forest. Every
morning at daybreak they awoke, and the males began calling to their
families to follow them to the feeding grounds. There they spent most
of the day, picking fruit, peeling and eating it, and robbing birds'
nests of their eggs and their fledglings. As time went on, however,
the fruit became scarcer, and when the monkeys tried to move to
another part of the forest they found their way blocked. Every way
that they turned they came to the edge of the trees, and all about
.them was grass. They were trapped. As the fruit and fledglings failed
them, they had no choice but to climb down to the ground.
In their frantic search for food they learned to lift up stones to
Science and the Studies of Man 65
collect insects and grubs, and to dig ground squirrels and moles out
of their burrows. As the monkeys acquired a taste for meat, they came
to relish the flesh of antelope and other large hoofed animals that
grazed on the plain, though these were hard to catch. They also soon
learned to watch out for lions and other beasts of prey with which
they had begun to compete for the meat. Life on the ground was as
dangerous as it was exciting. In the trees they had feared only falling
and the snake.
Al though some of these monkeys may have found their way back to
the shrinking border of the forest, others stayed on the ground, where
they continued to run about on all fours, lifting stones, picking
berries, and nibbling on buds and shoots. They still do. They are the
baboons and Barbary apes. Others learned to stand on their hind
limbs and to walk or run erect when they needed to use their hands.
After a while, however, the climate changed once more and the forest
crept back over the plain. Some of the descendants of the monkeys
that had learned to walk upright went back to the forest, where they
became the ancestors of apes. Only those upright ones that stayed out
in the open grew to be men.
It cannot therefore be said that man is descended from apes, but
rather that apes are descended from ground-living primates. that
almost became men. There is sound evidence of this. We know that all
animals repeat, during their embryonic life, the general history of
their ancestors, from the form of a single-celled animal onward. The
human embryo at various stages has gill-slits and a tail. The embryo
of a chimpanzee at one stage has a foot resembling that of man
in that its great toe points forward for walking rather than back-
ward for grasping. Only as it approaches its birth size does its foot
acquire the appearance of a hand. At no stage of its development
does the human foot resemble that of an adult ape. The chimpanzee
embryo has hair on its head like that of a man, and human-style
eyebrows.
l4
It is true that Mr. Coon is not unaware that the evidence on
which he bases his remarkably fanciful "reconstruction" is inade-
quate. On page 43 he states that the Early and Middle Pleistocene
bones on which he bases his reconstruction are few and their exact
date is dubious. Nevertheless, he is confident about the recon-
66 Scientism and Values
struction, for, although early man's bones are scarce, "the product
of his handiwork is abundant," and the tools give him confidence,
for they tell him the same story he has read from the bones.
It should be noted that Mr. Coon's scientific reconstruction con-
stitutes an astonishing achievement. Take, for example, a problem
that has troubled philosophers for quite some time and that lin-
. guists have wrestled with until they seem finally to have given it
up as hopeless..-the question of the origin of language. For Mr.
Coon the problem is easy. He tells us that by chirpings and roaring
animals communicate with one another. But there is, of course, a
difference between the vocabulary of the gibbons, who have "been
shown to possess. at least nine sets of sounds with specific mean-
ings," and human language. The gibbons, we are told, utter sim-
ple imperatives, "Keep away from my wife!" or "Let us go get
some fruit!" whereas human languages "include much larger vo-
cabularies and more complex ideas expressed in units known as
words. Not only do we speak and hear words, but we produce
them silently when we think." And then he proceeds to tell us
how human speech began:
The earliest forms of human speech must have begun when man's
brain had no more intellectual capacity than that of the gibbon,
capable only of a few commands and warnings, and limited entirely
to immediate interpersonal relations. Qualities of objects of various
classes, such as safe and dangerous, large and small; ways of referring
to other persons, such as husband and wife, father and son, in their
absence; and methods of expressing the idea that a given action had
been finished, rather than left incomplete-these mechanisms of ex-
pression must have followed, with the eventual addition of further
abstractions. 15
By avoiding the difficulties that make the problem an insoluble
one for philosophers, Mr. Coon's account is considerably sim-
plified. For philosophers insist that we must draw a distinction
between signs and symbols. It does not take a gibbon to give and
respond to signs. All animals do. But, so far as we can tell, man
is the only animal that employs symbols. And the difference is
radical and indispensable if we are to understand what is meant
Science and the Studies of Man 67
by thinking and communicating and what is the problem, of the
origin of language.
Mr. Coon has many other wonderful stories to tell us. Thus,
he gives us a picture of the social and intellectual life of Upper
Paleolithic men, the Late Ice Age Hunters, although so far as I
have been able to hnd out, these men left us no books, news-
papers, clay tablets, or any records from which such pictures could
have been drawn, nor does Mr. Coon mention any they might
have left.
16
They did leave us their wonderful paintings, and these
give evidence of equality, if not superiority, in skill to the artists
of today. But from them what can we infer? Not much, and that
only in very general terms. Thus, we may assume that animals
endowed with such aesthetic sensibility were fully developed
human beings, and must have had systems of morality and prob...
ably all the other forms of cultural life that we find in men today.
Yet if we believe this, and I do not doubt it, it is because we can-
not imagine that such aesthetic sensibility as the cave painters gave
evidence of could have existed by itself, unaccompanied by the
other kinds of sensibility that accompany it in the case of the
human beings we know and are. But this is all we can infer;
nothing more. Particularly nothing about what manner of animals
were the "ancestors" of the cave painters. We do not know how
Mr. Coon's ape or Hiirzeler's little animal became a human
being-which is to say, a being capable of employing symbols and
developing a culture. That human beings somehow appeared we
know, for here we are and seem to have been here for quite some
time. But Mr. Coon, who seems to believe his own fairy tales,
does not realize that the problem cannot be solved on the evidence
we have. The missing link, of which I used to hear in my child-
hood, and which gave so much comfort to believers in special
creation, is, still missing, and while it cannot legitimately give
comfort to fundam,entalists any more than Piltdown man can, it
should disturb the dogmatic slumbers of the evolutionists-and I
take it that it does, at least occasionally, as Hallowell's presidential
address evinces.
The problem, needless to point out, is an extremely complex
one. For it is not only a question of factual evidence, but of basic
68 Scientism and Values
definition of terms. We do not yet know with any reasonable con-
fidence what makes a being human. The impasse is radical and
substantive, and not a merely verbal one, because until we know
how we came about, we cannot draw the line between our earlier
ancestry, if we had such ancestry, Mr. Coon's "half-brained man,"
his "full-brained man," and Hiirzeler's Oreopithecus.I
7
That the cave painters were fully human we can reasonably
hold. But it should be noticed that, if challenged, the conviction
can be defended only by a purely speculative, a philosophic, and
not a scientific, argument. For it is, based on our inability to
imagine aesthetic sensibility unaccompanied by other modes of
sensibility-moral, religious, and cognitive. And our inability
could be disposed of as Dr. Johnson disposed of the young man
who said to him, "Sir, I do not understand." Replied the for-
midable Doctor: "Sir, I cannot give you understanding." If ",ve
cannot imagine, no one can give us imagination. In point of fact,
however, there is nothing absurd or self-contradictory in the
concept of an animal that gives evidence of aesthetic sensibility
and skill and who does not use symbols and has no capacity for
moral or religious response. There are Australian birds that are
said to "adorn" their nests. We could interpret their activity as
protoaesthetic sensibility and skill. But could we infer from their
elaborate preparations for mating that these birds have a capacity
for moral response? In any case, from the marvelous paintings of
the caves of France and Spain and the others nothing but the most
general deductions can be made.
How does Mr. Coon find it possible to give us his detailed
account of the social and intellectual life of men who left us no
records? He makes inferences from contemporary primitives and
from monkeys: Australians studied and photographed by Mount-
ford, African pigmies, some peoples living in modern times-
Australians, Negritos, and Andamans-who use fire but do not
know how to make it, and from the behavior of chimpanzees and
are the bases of Mr. Coon's remarkable "recon-
struction."18 Prior to reading Mr. Coon I had been under the
impression that anthropologists had given up the practice of
deducing the culture of early man from that of contemporary
Science and the Studies of Man 69
primitives and from chimpanzees and gibbons; but obviously I was
in error. However, the arguments interdicting such practice seem
to me to be conclusive. And since they are well kno,vn, I do not
need to review them here.
The abundant and detailed knowledge Mr. Coon succeeds in
gathering by these means about Upper Paleolithic man is quite
remarkable, and I would offer other specimens of it were I not
in fear of abusing the reader's patience and were not Mr. Coon's
book easily accessible. I shall confine my remarks in this respect
to pointing out that Mr. Coon knows even about the motivations
of these early people. Thus, he knows why they painted. This is a
question on which aestheticians since Plato and Aristotle have
not been able to agree. But for Mr. Coon the problem is one that
can be settled in passing: "One great solace in the face of disturb-
ance is art."19 These full-brained men did not have the advantages
that we, now living, have. In the face of disturbance all they could
do was paint or look at paintings, whereas for us the Metropolitan
or the National Gallery has become obsolescent. Here lies the
genuine value of scientific progress. When disturbed we take
tranquilizers. It is much less trouble.
Mr. Coon also knows about the religion of Upper Paleolithic
man:
The Late Ice Age religious institutions likewise exceeded political
boundaries, as it should in any healthy society. Ancestral heroes who
hovered over the band were shared by other bands that met at cere-
monial times. Cult heroes responsible for the landscape and its animal
life were likewise shared, as were the combined capacities of the old
men teaching the young.
20
These are not the only problems that Mr. Coon resolves.
Philosophers have quarreled about the nature of religion for some
time, and they have been very perplexed, since William James'
day, by the difficulty of giving an adequate definition of it in
view of the varieties of what, prima facie} seem to be religious ex-
perience. But for Mr. Coon these difficulties do not exist. He tells
us: "Religion is the sum total of behavior concerned with
70 Scientism and Values
restoring equilibrium to the individual or the group after
disturbance." 21
"But," I hear one of my readers ask, "what harm can there be
in Mr. Coon's fictional 'reconstructions'? For he is not trying to
palm off his fairy tales, on his fellow scientists. He is writing for
the general reader, who is not a specialist." The answer is that
there is no harm whatever. For we know that when a religious
fundamentalist teaches that his myths are literal truths, he is
spreading error and darkness; but when a scientist passes off
fiction as science, he spreads truth and light. Mr. Coon is in..
terested in the truth, for he is a scientist, whereas the funda-
mentalist is interested only in acquiring equilibrium after a
disturbance--and there is an obvious difference. Perhaps. But I
cannot rid myself of the feeling that we have a right to expect
responsibility from a scientist, whereas from a fundamentalist
all we can expect is his fundamentalism.
It must be acknowledged that when specialists write for them-
selves, and not for the general reader, they do not write fiction.
Their assertions are sober and cautious. But the same faith that
can be detected in Mr. Coon animates them. To show that this
is the case, I turn to my second illustration, from an article by
G. S. Carter:
Man is an animal, and, however greatly his present state differs from
that of the rest of the animal kingdom, we must accept that he arose
from sub-human ancestors by a process of evolution. And, since the
life of those ancestors must have been very like that of other animals"
the process by which he evolved must have been similar to that which
other animals undergo. If so, it is clear that some consideration of the
general theory of evolution is required before the'special case of the
evolution of man can be discussed.
22
This statement sounds unexceptionable on first reading. And it
cannot be said to be fiction. It is merely a deduction. If man is
an animal, he must have arisen from subhuman ancestors by a
process of evolution. In what other way could he have arisen?
Science and the Studies of Man 71
This would seem to be self-evident. But the reason is that we
readily supply the implicit premise of Mr. Carter's enthymeme, to
the effect that whatever happens must happen by natural means.
This assumption is not a scientific proposition, but a philosophical
one.
That this implicit premise is an unsupported assumption can be
noticed when we look with care at another paragraph of Mr.
Carter's article. He tells us:
We must now consider how far man's evolution since he arose from
his primate ancestors can be interpreted as governed by the same
controls as those we have seen to govern the evolution of other ani-
mals. There can be no doubt that his evolution has been in many
ways most unusual, and it is to be expected that unusual factors may
have taken part in its control. But man is an animal, and he arose
from animals much less unusual than he himself is. Also, his geno-
type is similar in its organization to those of other animals, and there
should be no great difference in type between the variations that form
the raw material of evolution in him and his animal ancestors. His
ecology, at least in the earlier stages of his evolution, must have arisen
by modification of that of the Primates from which he arose. Changes
in ecology undoubtedly occurred in the course of his evolution and
must have largely influenced its course, but he must have arisen from
a primate life, probably arboreal, very like that of many of our
modern Primates. I shall assume, for the sake of the argument, that
he early gave up his arboreal life, coming to live an omnivorous life
on the ground; that at first he lived in small groups not much larger
than the family; and that the size of his communities was enlarged
only later when he began to develop a social life.
23
What is of interest in this paragraph is the style in which it is
couched. "There can be no doubt ..." we are told, and "there
should be no great difference in type," and "he must have arisen,"
and "changes in ecology undoubtedly occurred." And finally: "I
shall assume." As, a student of philosophy, I find myself utterly
at home in this kind of reasoning, for it is the rhetoric philoso-
phers use when, as is so frequently the case, they want to per-
72 Scientism and Values
suade their readers and have little more than their own belief
in their doctrines to help them achieve their end. If "there can
be no doubt" of something or other, why are we not given the
evidence that makes it indubitable? And if man "must have
arisen" in a particular way and not in another, why are we not
given the facts in the case? And if changes in ecology "undoubtedly
occurred," why are we not forced to accept the proposition that
they occurred by being confronted with the evidence? And why is
it necessary to "assume" for the sake of the argument what ought
to be the conclusion of an empirical demonstration that has to
be accepted whether we like it or not? The reason Mr. Carter
uses the persuasive form of address. rather than an argument based
pn evidence is that he cannot point to the causal process by which
an animal that was the primate ancestor of man finally became a
human being. Or, changing the expression, Mr. Carter has to
cross from the subhuman to the human, and, lacking factual step-
ping stones, he pole-vaults by means of his sturdy and trusted
conviction that the change could have come about only by natural
means.
How does Mr. Carter know the truth of this proposition? He
cannot profess to have examined all the processes operative in the
universe or even a representative number of the kinds of processes
that are known about, nor can anyone else have done this for him.
Neither he nor anyone knows by what means man acquired his
distinctive powers and developed his institutions. It would seem,
therefore, that before we can hold that man is nothing but an
animal, we shall have to establish by scientific means that whatever
happens can happen only by natural means. But how could the
latter statement be established scientifically? However it is- estab-
lished, until it is, we shall have to be content to call it a philo-
sophical statement. This is all it is. It is, indeed, the most succinct
means of expressing a Weltanschauung known as "naturalism"
and widely accepted by contemporary men. To ask, therefore, the
question, "How does Mr. Carter know this statement?" is to
initiate an inquiry into the validity of naturalism. And to this
inquiry we must now turn.
Science and the Studies of Man
IV
73
Let me begin with two prefatory remarks. The first is that
naturalism is not a school of thought in the sense that idealism
or phenomenology is. It is a conviction about the universe that
is elaborated in diverse "vays. "Orthodox" naturalism, so to speak,
adds to the proposition that nothing happens except by natural
means another proposition, namely, that the only way to know
what happens is to bring it within the purvie"v of science. This
second proposition has been elaborated with gre.at care by posi-
tivists and instrumentalists who are committed to belief in "the
unity of science." There are, however, naturalists who do not
accept the doctrine of the unity of science.
The second prefatory remark is this: It is widely held today
that naturalis,m is one of the indispensable foundations of science.
I heard an academic psychologist recently assert, with a warmth
one does not expect of a scientist, that psychology is, possible
only on a naturalistic foundation. However widespread this belief
may be, it is false. Scientific activity of the most rigorous kind is
consistent with an indeterminate number of philosophical con-
victions. The business of the scientist is to discover the invariant
relations operative in the domain of his competence. What is to
be found beyond the purview of scientific inquiry he need not
make any assumptions about. He does not even need to believe,
as has been alleged, that nature is through and through governed
by the order that is expressed in scientific laws. When he espouses
naturalism, his views do not have the authority that his scientific
hypotheses have. When scientists speak of mathematics or geom-
etry as the alphabet of nature, as the men of the seventeenth
century did, they speak as philosophers; they do not speak as
scientists. A scientist can say, with' Kant, that nature is the realm
of law. But if he does, he must stop there, and he does not even
have the right, qua scientist, to say that what we ordinarily call
nature, the spatiotemporal world, is completely governed by law.
Of course, in his inquiries he discovers laws-these are what he
74 Scientism and Values
is searching for. But whether the spatiotemporal world is through
and through law-bound or whether, this, is the only world or
realm of being that there is, are questions to which he may turn
as a philosopher, but which his. scientific method is not designed
to answer.
When we examine naturalism critically, we find the arguments
offered in its favor puzzling. Among the difficulties that naturalism
must face are the lacunae in the scientific account of evolution,
the missing links that Mr. Coon has so elegantly and courageously
supplied us with. We do not know how man appeared on. earth,
we do not know how he came by his capacity for the employment
of symbolic processes, we know nothing of the beginning of cuI..
ture; we do not know about his first intimation, his first dim
awareness of himself and of others, his first apprehension of
beauty, his first fit of remorse, his first response to something he
ended by calling "God." Until we know how these and other
distinctive modes of human experience came about, naturalism
is a purely speculative conviction.
Some naturalists avoid this difficulty by employing the term
"emergence" to cover up the critical point at which the lacunae
are found. This is a mere verbal dodge. But one naturalist, at
least, discerning the dodge for what it is, interdicts its use. He
writes:
... even some professed naturalists sometimes appear to promote the
confusion when they make a fetish of continuity. Naturalists usually
stress the emergence of novel forms in physical and biological evolu-
tion, thereby emphasizing the fact that human traits are not identical
with the traits from which they emerge. Nevertheless, some distin-
guished contemporary naturalists also insist, occasionally with over-
tones of anxiety, that there is a "continuity" between the typically
human on the one hand and the physical and biological on the
other.
24
Elsewhere our philosopher assures us that naturalism is not
based on anything analogous to religious faith. And somewhere
else he is emphatic in his assertion that his philosophy is "sup-
Science and the Studies of Man 75
ported by compelling empirical evidence," rather than being
"dicta based on dogmatic preference."25
We must examine with care the problems generated by these
avowals and disavowals.
But before turning to the substance of our philosopher's argu-
ment, I invite the reader to consider its £onn. I think we owe
our philosopher thanks for the linguistic lesson that he has taught
us in passing. The phr.ases "compelling empirical evidence" and
"dicta based on dogmatic preference" are descriptive, neutral,
utterly value-free, and therefore appropriate for scientific dis-
course.
However, isn't there something slightly unscientific in the
manner in which our philosopher dismisses the beliefs of those
with whom he disagrees? His opponents accept their beliefs on
the ground of preference. Our philosopher knows their motiva-
tions. And, of course, his own conviction has been gained the hard
way, by gathering empirical evidence irrespective of his own
preferences. Indeed, he has no preference except to go where the
evidence leads. If this argument were put forth by anyone else than
a scientific philosopher, I would suggest that what he was doing
was psychoanalyzing the opposition-a game that we all can play.
Let us consider next the dichotomy with which our scientific
philosopher operates: On the one hand, .we have a doctrine sup-
ported by empirical evidence and, on the other, mere dicta based
on dogmatic preference. No third alternative is conceivable. Truth
on the one side and error on the other. It is as simple as that.
But is it? The question of the "evidence" on which even the most
dogmatic of us and the most depraved victim of his, own. prefer-
ence holds his beliefs cannot be resolved by rigging up a simplistic
dichotomy. And to attempt to resolve it in this manner is to dis-
play an ungenerous intolerance based on God knows what kind of
preference. Other philosophers arrive at their convictions in
much the same manner and for much the same kind of psycho-
logical reasons as naturalists arrive at their views, by means of
much the same kind of evidence, and the differences between
them, if they can be settled at all, cannot be settled by means of
simplistic dichotomies.
76 Scientism and Values
The disagreement is, in the last analysis, one about the nature
of experience and the quality of life that one philosophy makes
possible and another does not. The noun "experience," the verb
"to experience," and the adjective "empirical" are not univocal
terms that can be transferred from one system to another without
a change of meaning. And for this reason, when our naturalist
takes the no-nonsense position that "knowledge is knowledge," as
he does somewhere in the essay under examination, he is indulg-
ing in an act of oversimplification.
26
Knowledge is indeed knowl-
edge, but what is knowledge? I am ashamed to have to say it,
because it is something that any undergraduate who has taken a
course in the history of philosophy ought to know; but I am
forced to say it in view of the no-nonsense attitude of our phi-
losopher. What knowledge is, is still an open question which
Western philosophy has not succeeded in resolving in spite of the
tremendous effort that has been put into the attempt to do so.
Experience does not come labeled as empirical, nor does it come
self-eertified as, such. What we call "experience" depends on as-
sumptions often hidden beyond scrutiny, which define it and
which in turn it supports. We are here caught in a kind of circular
analysis we would do well to admit and accept, for it can be
avoided only by abandoning our system and falling back on in-
coherence.
With these observations about the form of our philosopher's
argument out of the way, we turn to the substantive problem that
arises, because of the introduction of the concept of emergence.
In order to examine it, I have to call the reader's attention to
the first of the two tenets that our philosopher considers central to
naturalism. He states it as follows: "The first [thesis] is the exis-
tential and causal primacy of organized matter in the executive
order of nature." 27
Our problem arises because we can interpret emergence in one
of two ways. Either the term "emergence" points to a place where
the causal link is not known, but is assumed to exist, or to a
place where it is not known because it does not exist. If we assert
"the existential and causal primacy of organized matter," we must
take the first interpretation of emergence. If we take the second,
Science and the Studies of Man 77
we are left with some sort of creation out of nothing. In a paper
published over fifteen years ago Paul Henle made clear that
"emergence" must be interpreted as pointing to our ignorance
of causal links that have not yet been discovered.
28
If Paul Henle
is not right, why are scientists and philosophers concerned with
the questions whether biochemists can synthesize life in their
laboratories and why are evolutionists putting forth speculative
doctrines about the condition on earth that made the appearance
of life possible? They are-like students of man such as Messrs.
Coon and Carter-concerned with the missing links. To seek for
these links relentlessly and everywhere, even where religious or
other interests put up no-trespassing signs, has, after a long strug-
gle, com,e to be recognized as legitimate in the civilized world-
is, indeed, one of the marks by which we distinguish today a
civilized society from one that is not. But to assert that we know
that they exist before we find them is to attempt to pass off a
"hunch" for a fact for which we have no evidence.
Such a conviction is no part of science; it is pure speculation.
Until we find the causal links, particularly at the critical places
at which they are now missing, the affirmation of the existential
and causal primacy of matter is a philosophical conviction on all
fours with other philosophical convictions. Or are we here con-
fronted with privileged a priori knowledge or a scientific revela-
tion? If we are, we should be informed that we are, for I, and I
am certain many others, do not want to infringe on anyone's
Until, however, the privilege is validated or the causal
links are supplied, I think we have a right to say that what we
have here is a bit of speculation-and a hope, the hope that the
links will be found.
There are other problems generated by the improper introduc-
tion of the scientific temper into the studies of man, but although
they are more or less intimately connected with the faith of the
naturalist, I cannot take them up here.
On one point, before closing, I beg leave to dwell emphatically:
In suggesting that Mr. Carter either argues in a circle or begs the
question, I have no desire to foist on him the views of the philos-
opher whom I have criticized. But if his argument is not based
78 Scientism and Values
on some formulation of the naturalistic tenet----which is to say,
if he does not accept some form or other of the premise I ex-
pressed as Hwhatever happens happens by natural means".--what
premise allows him to make the deduction from biological to
human evolution? Or does he mean to deny the differences be-
tween man and his "fellow" animals that give rise to the problem?
The latter cannot be his. intention, and the evidence that it is not
is the rhetorical effort, to which I have already referred, made by
Mr. Carter to persuade the reader that in spite of the differences
or alleged differences there is evolutionary continuity between
man and the other animals. If these differences are accepted, Mr.
Carter must make the deduction by some sort of implicit premise,
for his argument is clearly enthymemic.
Or is Mr. Carter arguing as a man of faith and not as a man
of science? This I can understand and accept. What is more, if the
matter is thus put, I have a "hunch" that Mr. Carter is right. That
is probably how man came about, although we do not know, at
the critical places, how it happened. Having been born in the
twentieth century, I find it impossible to entertain any other no-
tion of how man came about. But "hunches," by whomever held
and however widely held, do not constitute scientific knowledge,
although some of them may be the starting point of such knowl-
edge. And the Spirit of the Age-any age, even the greatest of
all ages, the age of Belsen .and Hiroshima, of genocig.e and of the
commissar---is not always the Spirit of Truth. Had Messrs. Coon
and Carter wanted to remain scrupulously within the domain of
science, they would have asserted something like this: For the fact
of man's biological evolution there is evidence as good as any we
have in science. As to the factors, we must be prepared to modify
our hypotheses with the progress of biology and other relevant
sciences. But how an animal became a human being, a symbolic,
culture-rearing animal, what factors led to this change and when,
this is a question that scientists can answer only in the most
speculative and, as yet at least, nonempirical of ways--in the way
which Mr. Coon has answered it. Mr. Coon's answer could be im..
proved It could be less fanciful, more diffident, and
considerably more sophisticated. But, as yet, something like Mr.
Science and the Studies of Man 79
Coon's story is all we can give in answer to the question how an
unknown animal became man. Had the answer been couched in
these terms, Mr. Coon could not have written his long and lively
book; he would have written a much smaller one, and a more
sober one. But he would not have been open to criticism.
It follows from what I have said that I do not reject the natural-
istic faith because I believe in man's special creation or in divine
miracles. I believe in only one miracle-the miracle of the uni-
verse. As to creation of any kind-whether that of man or the
world-which is to say, as to the generative processes with which
the universe teems,-these are too mysterious or miraculous. for
me to advance anything resembling a "hypothesis." about them.
I am content to let Messrs. Hoyle and Gamow speculate about
them. As for myself, all I can do is to respond to these processes
with awe and piety. And with unappeased wonder.
That this is not acknowledged frankly, that conscientious scien-
tists do not see that their argument is enthymemic and the
implicit premise is a philosophic assumption and not an em-
pirically demonstrated proposition, is a fact that it is, most
important to notice, because only by noticing it do we grasp the
true nature of the conviction that these men possess. It is a faith.
And for this reason, when the studies of man claim to be scientific,
they are merely scientistic.
NOTES
1. In the writing of this paper I have not had history in mind, for I take
it that history is still fortunately free from scientistic contagion. But in
so far as the assertion is made that history is a science, in the sense of
the word here employed, what I say about the scientistic studies of man
applies to history.
2. Gobbledygook is not to be identified indiscriminately with the technical
language of a discipline, in which terms that are relatively precise are
introduced by scholars to save laborious periphrasis and mental effort.
For a deliberate attempt to introduce gobbledygook into a discipline, see
E. W. Count et ale "Do We Need More Becoming Words?" American
Anthropologist, Vol. LV, No.3 (1953) pp. 395 ff.
3. A valuable contribution towards defining the relation of psychology to
the human being is made by Paul Lafitte, The Person in Psychology,
Reality or Abstraction (London, 1957).
80 Scientism and' Values
4. I have been asked for "proof" of this statement. By the request, I take
it, what is intended is "empirical evidence" obtained as follows: Take
at least twenty freshmen (women will do, if men are not available, and
upper classmen even; in extremis) professors, if their services can be
enlisted) and divide them into two groups, one for control. Destroy the
sel£.respect of one of the groups and observe results. The statement is
taken as a "hypothesis" which, if "confirmed," becomes a "law." Will the
law apply to Hindoos in Trinidad, B.W.I.? This calls for "field work,"
which first involves a "foundation grant" leading to a little junket in
the Caribbean. Alas, I do not have this kind of evidence, and what com..
pounds the felony, I do not have much faith in this way of getting it.
The "proof" by which I back the statement is a number of years of ob..
servation of my fellow beings and speculation concerning the nature of
the good life. This, I know, is a most disreputable admission for a
scholar to make, and I make it in shame, for it puts me (allowing for
obvious differences in stature) with men like Plato, Aristotle, Montaigne,
Kant and Hume-yes, even Hume, for consider the nature of the evi·
dence he offers in Section II of his Enquiry Concerning the Principles
of Morals-and Veblen. A shameful group of men to be with, who make
statements of an empirical nature without having taken twenty freshmen,
etc.
5. Ruth L. Monroe, Schools of Psychoanalytic Thought) an Exposition,
Critique, and Attempt at Integration (New York, 1955).
6. Radcliffe-Brown's statement is quoted by A. C. Haddon, History of An·
thropology (London, 1934), p. 123.
7. Ralph Linton, The Study of Man, an Introduction (New York, 1946),
p. vii.
8. Fr. Bernardino de Sahagun, Historia general de las cosas de Nueva
Espana, (Mexico, D. F., 1938), I, xiv-xvi. The writer of the "Nota Pre-
liminar" to the Historia general, Wigberto Jimenez Moreno, concludes
his discussion of Sahagun's method in the following manner: "Sahagun
followed, without knowing, the most rigorous and demanding method
of the anthropological sciences." And he refers to two other writers that
have studied Sahagun from this point of view. I once heard the dis-
tinguished philosopher, the late Joaquin Xirau, make the same point
about Sahagun.
9. Redfield's article was published in The Chicago Review) Vol. VIII, No.3
(1954), pp. 35-43. I shall refer to it below in another connection. I want
to use this opportunity to express my deep sense of grief: as I was
revising these notes his death occurred. American anthropology suffers
irreparable loss.
As I was engaged in the revision of this paper a review came to my
attention that ought to be read by those interested in the subject of
scientism and the studies of man. Entitled "The Proper Study of Man-
kind," it appeared in The (London) Times Literary Supplement, No.2
946, 57th year (August 15, 1958), pp. 453-454. See also Abraham Maslow,
Personality and Motivation (New York, 1954) and a paper to be pub..
lished in the Journal of Genetic Psychology entitled "The Cognition of
Science and the Studies of Man 81
Being in the Peak-Experiences." His recent papers all indicate that the
subject matter in which he is interested, which is of great importance,
cannot be handled within the restrictions of scientism.
10. Thus, one of the contributors to this volume, Professor von Bertalanffy,
seems to hold (I say "seems," because I am not certain that I have
understood him) that teleology is no longer a problem among biologists.
II. Philosophers of science will consider this account of what scientists do
superficial and inaccurate. But a more accurate account of the matter
would take us too far afield. The essential point I want to make is that
the student of man, for complex reasons, cannot handle value data as
the scientist handles merely factual, value-free data.
12. Redfield, Ope cit.} p. 40.
13. S. F. Nadel, The Foundations of Anthropology (Glencoe, 111., 1951-but
the Preface is dated November, 1949). A. Irving Hallowell, "Personality
Structure and the Evolution of Man," American Anthropologist) Vol.
LII, No.2 (April-June, 1950), pp. 159 ff. Since failure of communication
at this point would lead to a total misunderstanding of my point, let me
emphasize that I am not speaking here about the cluster of problems
brilliantly elucidated by Redfield in The Primitive World and Its Trans-
formations (Ithaca, New York, 1953). Redfield starts with beings that are
already human. I am referring to the critical period during which the
transition took place between a prehuman animal and the culture-
rearing, symbol-using animal, the full human beings we now are.
14. Carleton S. Coon, The Story of Man (New York, 1954), pp. 11-12. If
Hiirzeler's Oreopithecus is accepted, Mr. Coon's ape took to the grass in
vain, for he was too late to found a dynasty. And, what is more amusing
to the student of philosophy, Bishop Wilberforce's query to Huxley had
a point in spite of His Grace's prejudice and ignorance. But our prob-
lem is not changed by little Oreopithecus.
15. Ope cit.} p. 18.
16. Ope cit.) p. 28, p. 32.
17. Ope cit.} pp. 96 fI.
18. Ope cit.) pp. 45, 47, 61, 65.
19. Ope cit.) p. 101.
20. Ope cit.) p. 105.
21. Loc. cit. I may be giving the reader the impression of being a carping,
implacable, and even picayune critic. So be it. But these are important
questions, and one cannot stand by and watch them settled in such a
cavalier manner by a man who speaks in the name of science. On Mr.
Coon's conception of religion and of art, they are both means of restor-
ing equilibrium. It would seem that the difference between one mode of
experience and the other requires careful discrimination, in which the
anthropologist would be as seriously interested as the student of phi-
losophy. But note that I am not complaining that Mr. Coon failed to
elucidate the distinction between religion and art; that is not within his
professional competence. The complaint is that he did not indicate in
passing that this difference constitutes a difficult problem. Is it not de-
sirable that the scientist who writes for the general public should point
82 Scientism and Values
out the difficulties that perplex us when we try to grasp the nature of
man and his experience?
22. G. S. Carter, "The Theory of Evolution and the Evolution of Man," in
Anthropology Today, an Encyclopedic Inventory, prepared under the
chairmanship of A. L. Kroeber (Chicago, 1953), p. 327 A.
23. Ope cit., 339 B.
24. Ernest Nagel, "Naturalism Reconsidered," Proceedings and Addresses of
the American Philosophical Association, 1954-55, p. 10. However, I am
not quite sure exactly what attitude Mr. Nagel does take towards
"emergence," and the reason for my difficulty is that earlier in the same
page he says that "naturalism views the emergence and the continuance
of human society as dependent on physical and physiological condi-
tions .. ."
25. Ope cit., p. 14 and p. 12 respectively.
26. Ope cit., p. 14.
27. Op.cit., p. 8.
28. Paul Henle, "The Status of Emergence," The Journal of Philosophy,
Vol. XXXIX, No. 18 (August 27, 1942), pp. 486 fI.
4
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic
Sociology
RICHARD M. WEAVER
This inquiry concerns some problems posed by the use of
rhetoric in the dissemination of a professedly scientific knowledge
of man. It assumes that rhetoric in its right character is one of
the useful arts and that knowledge about the nature and behavior
of man can be gained and should be propagated as widely as
possible. The question of what things should precede and enter
into that dissemination, however, continues to raise real per-
plexities. Many of us who read the literature of social science as
laymen are conscious of being admitted at a door which bears the
watchword "scientific objectivity" and of em.erging at another
door which looks out upon a variety of projects for changing,
renovating, or revolutionizing society. In consequence, we feel the
need of a more explicit account of how the student of society
passes from facts to values or statements of policy.
I would reject at the outset any assumption that the man who
studies social phenomena either could or should be incapable of
indignation and admiration. Such a person, were it possible for
him to exist, would have a very limited function, and it is hard
to see how he could be a wise counselor about the matters with
which he deals. It seems probable that no one would ever devote
himself to the study of society unless he had some notion of an
83
84 Scientism and Values
"ought," or of the way he would like to see things go. The real
focus of this study is on the point at which social science and
rhetoric meet and on the question whether this meeting, in the
case of what will here be labelled "scientistic" sociology, has re-
sulted in deception rather than in open and legitimate argument.
To begin the inquiry, it will be necessary to say a few things
about the nature of rhetoric.
1. Rhetorical and Scientific Discourse
Rhetoric is anciently and properly defined as the art of per-
suasion. We may deduce from this that it is essentially concerned
with producing movement, which may take the form of a change
of attitude or the adoption of a course of action, or both. This
art, whether it presents itself in linguistic or in other forms (and
I would suggest that a bank or other business corporation which
provides itself with a tall and imposing-looking building is dem-
onstrating that there is even a rhetoric of matter or of scene),
meets the person to whom it is addressed and takes him where
the rhetor wishes him to go, even if that "going" is nothing more
than an intensification of feeling about something. This means
that rhetoric, consciously employed, is never innocent of inten-
tion, but always has as its object the exerting of some kind of
compulsion.
Defining rhetoric thus as the art of persuasion does not, how-
ever, divorce it entirely from scientific knowledge. My view is
that the complete rhetorician is the man of knowledge who has
learned, in addition to his knowledge, certain arts, of appeal which
have to do with the inspiring of feeling. Indeed, the scientist and
the rhetorician both begin with an eye on the nature of things.
A rhetoric without a basis in science is inconceivable, because
people are moved to action by how they "read" the world or the
phenomena of existence, and science is the means of representing
these in their existential bearings. People respond according to
whether they believe that certain things exist with fixed natures,
or whether they accept as true certain lines of cause-and-effect
relationship, or whether they accept as true certain other relation-
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 85
ships, such as the analogical. One might, speaking as a scientist,
define man as an animal, or one might assert that government
spending is a cause of inflation, or one might assert that war and
murder are similar kinds of things. But one could also make these
statements as a rhetorician. How, then, can one distinguish be-
tween the two kinds of statements?
The difference is that science is a partial universe of discourse,
which is concerned only with facts and the relationships among
them. Rhetoric is concerned with a wider realm, since it must
include both the scientific occurrence and the axiological ordering
of these facts. For the rhetorician the tendency of the statement
is the primary thing, because it indicates his position or point
of view in his universe of discourse. Rhetorical presentation al-
ways carries perspective. The scientific inquirer, on the other
hand, is merely noting things as they exist in empirical conjunc-
tion. He is not passing judgment on them because his present-
ment, as long as it remains scientific, is not supposed to be any-
thing more than classificatory. The statement of a scientist that
"man is an animal" is intended only to locate man in a biological
group as a result of empirical finding; but the rhetorician's state-
ment of the same thing is not the same in effect. For him the
term "animal" is not a mere positive designation, but a term
loaded with tendency from the wider context in which he is using
it. He is endeavoring to get a response by identifying man with
a class of beings toward which a certain attitude is predictable. He
has taken the term out of the positive vocabulary and made it
dialectical, a distinction I shall take up presently.
It may now be suggested that if the sociologists whom I am
here calling "scientistic" had been true scientists, they would have
asked at the beginning: What is the real classification of the s u b ~
ject of our study? And having answered this, they would have
asked next: What is the mode of inquiry most appropriate to that
study? I am assuming that the answers. to their questions would
have told them that their subject matter is largely subjective, that
much of it is not susceptible of objective or quantitative m e a s u r e ~
ment, and that all or nearly all their determinations would be
inextricably bound up with considerations of value. This would
86 Scientism and Values
have advised them that however scientific they might try to be
in certain of their procedures-as in the analysis of existing facts-
the point would be reached where they would have to transcend
these and group their facts in categories of significance and value.
But what some of the more influential of them did was. to
decide that the phenomena which they were engaged in studying
were the same as those which the physical scientists were studying
with such impressive results, and that the same methods and
much of the same terminology would be appropriate to the prose-
cution of that study.
2. The Original Rhetorical Maneuver
My thesis is that in making this decision they were acting
not as scientists, but as rhetoricians, because they were trying to
capitalize on a prestige and share in an approbation, in disregard
of the nature of the subject they were supposed to be dealing
with. Sociology took this turn at a time when the prestige of
physical science was very great, possibly greater than it is even
today,. since certain limitations had not then been encountered
or fully considered. Physical science was beginning to change ··the
face of the earth, and it was adding greatly to the wealth-producing
machinery of mankind. It was very human for a group engaged
in developing a body of knowledge to wish to hitch its wagon to
that star. F. A. Hayek, in The Counter-Revolution of Science) has
related the case as follows
Their [the physical scientists'] success was such that they came to
exert an extraordinary fascination on those working in other fields,
who rapidly began to imitate their teaching and vocabulary.... These
[subjects] became increasingly concerned to vindicate their equal
status by showing that their methods we:re the same as· those of their
more brilliantly successful sisters. rather than by adapting their
methods. more and more to their own particular problems.!
Accordingly, the founders of scientistic sociology did not so
much arrive independently at a definition of sociology (in doing
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 87
which they would have been scientists) as seek identification, for
external reasons, with another field of study. In proceeding thus,
they were not trying to state the nature of their subject; they
were trying to get a value imputed to it. That this was, their
original rhetorical maneuver can be shown in the following way.
Rhetoric can be visualized as altogether a process of making
this kind of identification. The process is simply that of merging
something we would like to see taken as true with something that
is believed to be true, of merging something we would like to
get accepted with something that is accepted. Such an operation
can be seen in the most rudimentary of all rhetorical devices,
which is sometimes termed "name-calling." To something that
we wish to see accepted, we apply a name carrying prestige; to
something that we wish to s,ee rejected, we apply a name that
is distasteful. Rhetoric thus works through eulogistic and dys-
logistic vocabularies. It is the thing-to-be-identified-with that pro-
vides the impulse, whether favorable or unfavorable. The honest
and discriminating rhetorician chooses these things with regard
to reason and a defensible scheme of values; the dishonest or un-
thinking one may seize upon any terms which seem to possess
impulse, just to make use of their tractive power.
If the foregoing analysis is correct, the scientistic sociologists
applied a prestige-earrying name to their study. They were not
classifying in the true sense; they were instigating an attitude.
In brief, "social science" is itself a rhetorical expression, not an
analytical one. The controversy over their methods and recom-
mendations which goes on today continues to reflect that fact.
\
3. Positive and Dialectical Terms
Having thus assumed the role of scientists, they were under
a necessity of maintaining that role. And this called for further
"identifications." Perhaps the most mischievous of these has been
the collapsing of the distinction between positive and dialectical
terms. Since this distinction is of the first importance to those
who would deal with these matters critically, I shall try to make
clear what is meant by it.
88 Scientism and Values
Practically everyone, grants that not all of the terms in our
vocabulary refer to the same kind of thing. The difference be-
tween those which refer to positive entities and those which refer
to dialectical ones is of decisive significance for the investigator.
"Positive" terms stand for observable objects capable of physical
identification and measurement. They are terms, whose referents
are things existing objectively in the world, whose presence sup-
posedly everyone can be brought to acknowledge. "Rock," "tree,"
and "house" are examples. Positive terms thus make up a "physi-
calist" vocabulary, inasmuch as they represent the objects of
sensory perception (even when these have to be noted hy dials
and meters). Properly speaking, there cannot be an argument
about a positive term; there can be only a dispute, which is sub-
ject to settlement by actual observation or measurement.
"Dialectical" terms com,e from a different source, because they
take their meaning from the world of idea and action. They are
words for essences and principles, and their meaning is reached
not through sensory perception, but through the logical processes
of definition, inclusion, exclusion, and implication. Since their
meaning depends on a concatenation of ideas, what they signify
cannot be divorced from the ideological position of the user as
revealed by the general context of his discourse. A scientist, as
we have noted, locates things in their empirical conjunction, but
the user of dialectic must locate the meaning of ,his entities in
the logical relationships of his system, and hence his discovery
of them cannot be an empirical discovery. For this reason we say
that the meaning of "justice" or "goodness" or "fair play" is not
"found," but rather "arrived at." It is implied by the world of
idea and attitude with which the user started. A dialectical term
does not stand for "motion," as the positive term out of science
might do, but for "action," which cannot be freed from the idea
of purpose and value.
The scientistic sociologist has tried to maintain his scientific
stance by endeavoring to give the impression that all the terms
he uses are positive and hence can be used with the same "objec-
tivity" and preciseness as those of the physical scientist. I say he
has endeavored to give the impression, because even an impres-
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 89
sion that this can be done is difficult to induce for any length of
time, as I believe the following examples will show.
Let us take for -illustration an expression fairly common in
sociological parlance today: "the underprivileged," and ask our-
selves how one determines its meaning. We see at once that it is
impossible to reach the meaning of "the underprivileged" without
reference to the opposed term, "the privileged." Evidently one
has first to form a concept of "the privileged," and this will be
in reference to whatever possessions and opportunities are thought
of as conferring privilege. The one term is arrived at through
logical privation of the other, and neither is conceivable without
some original idea frankly carrying evaluation. "Privilege" sug-
gests, of course, something that people desire, and hence "the priv-
ileged" are those in whose direction we wish to move; and "the
underprivileged" constitute the class we wish to escape from. But
where is the Geiger counter with which we could go out into
society and locate one of the underprivileged? We would have to
use some definition of privilege, arising out of an original
inclination toward this or that ideal.
Or let us take the more general expression, "social problem."
How is one to become aware of the supposedly objective fact or
facts denoted by this expression? According to one sociologist, a
social problem is "any situation which attracts the attention of a
considerable number of competent observers within a society and
appeals to them as calling for readjustment or remedy by social,
i.e., collective, action of some kind or other." 2 At least three items
in this definition warn us that a social problem is not something
that just anybody could identify, like an elephant in a parade,
but something that must be determined by a dialectical operation.
First of all, the observer must be competent, which I take to
mean trained not just in seeing objective things, but in knowing
when ideas or values are threatened by their opposites. This per-
ception appeals to him for an attitude to be followed by an action,
and moreover this. action must be of the putatively most beneficial
kind, "social" or "collective."
The point I wish to make here is that the scientistic sociologist
is from the very beginning caught up in a plot, as it were, of
90 Scientism and Values
attitude and action, and that he cannot divorce the meaning of
the incidents from the structure of the plot. The plot is based on
a position which takes facts out of empirical conjunction and
places them in logical or dialectical constructions.
He is therefore not dealing in positive words that have a single
fixed meaning when he uses terms that depend on a context for
their signification. Another way of expressing this is to say that
the terms in his vocabulary are polar, in that their meaning
changes according to what they are matched with. And since the
sociologist has the opportunity to match them with almost any-
thing, he is not dealing with scientific invariables when he talks
about "the underprivileged" or "a social problem." He is being
an ethical philosopher from the beginning, with the responsibility
which that implies.
The conclusion comes down to this: Things which are discrimi-
nated empirically cannot thereafter by the same operation be
discriminated dialectically. If one wishes to arrive at a dialectical
discrimination, one has to start from a position which makes that
possible.
4. Other Forms of ((Identification"
This ignoring of the nature of dialectical inquiry is the most
serious perversion committed by the scientistic sociologists in seek-
ing to maintain their identification, but there are other, perhaps
more superficial, procedures, whose general end is the same kind
of simulation. One of the more noticeable is what might be called
pedantic analysis. The scientistic sociologist wishes people to feel
that he is just as empirical and thoroughgoing as the natural
scientist and that his conclusions are based just as relentlessly on
observed data. The desire to present this kind of fa\ade accounts,
one may suspect, for the many examples and the extensive use of
statistical tables found in the works of some of them. It has
been said of certain novelists that they create settings having such
a wealth of realistic detail that the reader assumes that the plot
which is to follow will be equally realistic, when this may be far
from the case. What happens is that the novelist disarms the
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 91
reader with the realism of his setting in order that he may "get
away with murder" in his plot. The persuasiveness of the scene
is thus counted on to spill over into the action of the story. In
like manner, when a treatise on social science is filled with this
kind of data, the realism of the latter can influence our acceptance
of the thesis, which may, on scrutiny, rest on very dubious con..
structs, such as definitions of units.
Along with this there is sometimes a great display of scientific
preciseness in formulations. But my reading suggests that some of
these writers are often very precise about matters which are not
very important and rather imprecise about matters which are.
Most likely this is an offsetting process. If there are subjects one
cannot afford to be precise about because they are too little
understood or because one's views of them are too contrary to
traditional beliefs about society, one may be able to maintain an
appearance of scientific correctness by taking great pains in the
expressing of matters of little consequence. These will afford
scope for a display of scholarly punctiliousness and of one's com..
mand of the scientific terminology.
At the opposite extreme, but intended for the same e f f e c t ~ is the
practice of being excessively tentative in the statement of conclu-
sions and generalizations. The natural scientists have won an
enviable reputation for modesty in this respect: they seldom allow
their desire for results to carry them beyond a statement of what
is known or seriously probable. This often calls for a great deal
of qualification, so that cautious qualification has become the hall-
mark of the scientific method. It is my impression, however, that
a good many modern sociologists do their qualifying, not for the
purpose of protecting the truth, but of protecting themselves.
There is a kind of qualification which is mere hedging. I offer
as an example a sentence from an article entitled "Some Neglected
Aspects of the Problem of Poverty." The author hegins his defi-
nition thus: "It would seem that it is nothing more nor less than
a comparative social condition depending on a relative control
over economic goods, the standard of comparison being a group
possessing a maximum of such control, called the rich or
wealthy." 3 There appear at the very beginning of this sentence
92 Scientism and Values
two important qualifiers: (1) the verb is thrown into a conditional
mode by the use of the auxiliary "would," and (2) the verb is not
the categorical "is," but the tentative "seem," with its suggestion
that one may be dealing only with appearances. This is followed
by "nothing more nor less," which is a purely rhetorical flourish,
evidently intended to make us feel that the author is going to be
definite, whereas he has just advised us' that he is not. What looks
like carefulness is mere evasiveness; this writer does not want to
assume the risk of saying what poverty is. Instances of such un-
willingness to make a firm declaratory statement are so numerous
that they almost constitute the style of a type of social science
writing. With the unwary reader, unfortunately, this style may
encourage confidence, whereas it should lead to challenge.
4
5. Appeals to Authority
In addition to a language simulating that of science, the
scientistic sociologists make use of an external means of per-
suasion in the form of an appeal to authority. A common prac-
tice with some of these writers when they are dealing with a
subject that is controversial or involved with value judgments is
to cite an impressive array of authorities. There is nothing im-
proper in itself, of course, about the invoking of authority. But
when we look at the method of certain of these authors, we are
likely to find that the authorities are other social scientists who
happen to share the particular view which is being presented.
What looks like an inductive survey of opinions may in fact be a
selection of ex parte pronouncements. Still, such marshalling of
authorities, often accompanied by a quotation from each to
heighten the sense of reality or conviction, can easily give the im-
pression that all authority is behind the view being advanced.
Thus many textbooks on social problems bristle with the names
of persons whose claims to authority may be quite unknown to
the reader, but whose solemn citation may be depended on to
exert a persuasive force.
5
One suspects that it is the appearance
rather than the real pertinence of the authority which is desired.
Along with this there is another, and a more subtle, kind of
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 93
appeal to authority which takes the form of a patter of modern
shibboleths. These may be taken from everyday language, but
they will be words and expressions associated with leaders of
opinion, with current intellectual fashions, with big projects, and
with things in general which are supposed to have a great future.
Professor A. H. Hobbs, in his Social Problems and lists
among others: intergovern-
disciplines, workshop, interrelations,
human resources) and human development.
6
I would suggest that
this language represents an .appeal to the authority of the "modern
mind." These are expressions carrying a certain melioristic bias,
which one will have difficulty in resisting without putting oneself
in the camp of reaction or obscurantism. The repeated use of
them has the effect of setting up a kind of incantation, so that
to sound in dissonance with them is virtually to brand oneself
as antisocial. The reader is left with the alternative of accepting
them and of going along on assumptions he does not approve of,
or of rejecting them, which would entail continuous argument
and would involve taking a position almost impossible to explain
to a "modern."
6. Sociology as Deliberative Oratory
The use of appeals based on authority brings up again the
role of the sociologist as advocate.
At the beginning of his treatise on Rhetoric Aristotle divides
the art into three kinds: deliberative, forensic, and epideictic.
Epideictic rhetoric is devoted to celebrating (as in the panegyric);
forensic rhetoric is concerned with the justice or injustice of things
which have already happened; and deliberative oratory is con-
cerned with the future, since the speaker is urging his audience
to do, or to refrain from doing, something or other. "The end of
the deliberative speaker is the expedient or the harmful; for he
who exhorts recommends a course of action as better, and he
who dissuades advises against it as worse; all other considerations,
such as justice' and injustice, honor and disgrace, are included as
accessory in relation to this." 7 By the terms of this definition a
94 Scientism and Values
considerable part of sociological writing must be classified as de-
liberative oratory, and the practitioners of it as rhetoricians.
When one sets up to advise concerning alternative social courses,
one does exactly what the ancient orator in the Areopagus or the
forum was doing, however much the abstr.actness of one's lan-
guage may tend to conceal that fact. As Kenneth Burke has
pointed out:
... when you begin talking about the optimum rate of speed at which
cuItural change should take place or the optimum proportion between
tribal and individualistic motives which should prevail under a given
set of economic conditions, you are talking about something very
important indeed; but you will find yourself deep in matters of
rhetoric, for nothing is more rhetorical in nature than a deliberation
as to what is too much or too little, too early or too late...." 8
A good many current texts on sociology are replete with this
kind of deliberation. Martin Neumeyer, in his Social Problems
and the Changing Society, while discussing numerous opinions on
the topics with which he deals, often steps into the role of judge
and advocate. Thus we read:
Homicides, suicides, illegitimate births, deaths due to venereal disease
and the like seem to be more prevalent where there is low integration
in cities. The more adequately a city provides for the health and wel-
fare of its citizens, the greater the chance of preventing or controlling
deviations. Well integrated cities are likely to have a better chance of
survival and growth than poorly integrated urban areas.
9
It might be contended that this passage is merely descriptive of
certain laws of social phenomena. Still, the presence of such
phrases as "more adequately," "health and welfare of its citizens,"
and "a hetter chance of survival and growth" show plainly that
the passage is written from a standpoint of social meliorism.
The same kind of thing is done by George Lundberg, in his
Foundations of Sociology, when he becomes a pleader on the sub-
ject of language itself. He argues that we ought to give up thos,e
terms created hy the original myth- and metaphor-making disposi-
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 95
tion of the human mind in favor of a different "symbolic equip-
ment." That he is entirely willing to utilize traditional rhetoric
in making his point may be seen from the following passage:
Untold nervous energy, time, and natural resources are wasted in
warfare upon or protection against entirely imaginary monsters con-
jured up by words. Widespread mental disorders result from constantly
finding the world different from the word-maps upon which we rely
for guidance and adjustment. Social problems cannot be solved as long
as they are stated in terms as primitive and unrealistic as those which
attributed disease to demons and witches.
lO
A feature of another kind indicating that a good many socio-
logists are engaged in more or less concealed deliberative oratory
is the presence in their work of a large amount of enthymematic
reasoning. Reasoning in this form is a rhetorical kind of convinc-
ing, and the enthymeme is actually described by Aristotle as, the
"rhetorical syllogism." 11 In the textbooks of logic it is defined as
a syllogism with one of the propositions withheld. In the argument
All who are patriots should be willing to sacrifice for their country.
You should be willing to sacrifice for your country.
the minor premise, "You are a patriot," is missing. It has been
omitted because the maker of the argument has assumed that it is
granted by the hearer and will be supplied by him to complete
the argument.
This type of argument is rightly described as rhetorical because
the rhetorician always gets his leverage by starting with things
that are accepted. By combining these with things he wants to
get accepted ("identification" again) he moves on to the conclusion
which is his object. In other words, because the rhetorician can
assume certain things-because he does not have to demonstrate
every proposition in his argument-he can work from statements
which are essentially appeals. He studies beforehand the disposi-
tion of his auditors and takes note of those beliefs which will
afford him firm ground-those general convictions about which
96 Scientism and Values
one does not have to be deliberative. Hence the enthymeme is
rhetorical, as distinguished from the syllogism, because it capi-
talizes on something already in the mind of the hearer. The
speaker tacitly assumes one position, and from this he can move
on to the next.
A number of contemporary sociologists, as I read them, use
the enthymeme for the purpose of getting accepted a proposition
which could be challenged on one ground or another. They make
an assumption regarding the nature or goals of society and treat
this as if it were universally granted and therefore not in need
of explicit assertion. I refer again to Neumeyer's Social Problems
and the Changing Society. This work seems to rest its case on
an enthymeme which, if expanded to a complete syllogism, would
go as follows:
If society is democratic and dynamic, these prescriptions are valid.
Society is democratic and dynamic.
Therefore these prescriptions are valid.
What the author does in effect is to withhold his minor premise
apparently on the ground that no man of sense and information
will question it. Therefore he does not take seriously those who
would ask "Is society really democratic .and dynamic?" or "In
what ways is society democratic and dynamic?" (What is to take
care of societies which are aristocratic and traditional, or do they
have no social problems?) Having thus assumed the premise he
needs in order to get his conclusion, he can proceed to describe
the techniques which would be proper in a democratic and
dynamic society, as if they were the only ones to be taken into
account.
There is nothing illicit about enthymematic arguments; they
are to be encountered frequently wherever argumentation occurs.
My point is that something significant is implied by their presence
here. Even if weare clear about why the sociologist must argue,
why is he ,employing a form of argument recognized as "rhe-
torical"?
This takes us back to the original question regarding his prov-
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 97
ince and specifically to the relationship of what he does to the
world of value. A good many current writers in the field seem
rather evasive on the subject of values: they admit that the prob-
lem of value has to be faced; but then they merely circle about it
and leave specific values to shift for themselves. Occasionally one
takes a more definite stand, as when Francis E. Merrill declares
that the values of a social scientist are the values given him by
virtue of his membership in a democratic and progressive society.12
Even so respected a thinker as Max Weber seems less than satisfac-
tory on the two roles of the social scientist. His position is that
the distinction between the purely logically deducible and empirical
factual assertions, on the one hand, and practical, ethical, or philo-
sophical judgments, on the other hand, is correct, but that nevertheless
... both problems belong within the area of instruction.I
3
Obviously the problem is how to encompass both of them. What
Weber does is to lay down a rule for academic objectivity. The
teacher must set
as his unconditional duty, in every single case, even to the point where
it involves the danger of making his lectures less lively or less attrac-
tive, to make relentlessly clear to his audience, and especially to him-
self, which of his statements are statements of logically deduced or
empirically related facts and which are statements of practical
evaluations.
14
My question would be how the sociologist can in good con-
science leave the first to embark upon the second without having
something in the nature of a philosophy of society. His dilemma
is that he is perforce a dialectician, but he is without a dialectical
basis. He must use dialectical terms, but he has no framework
which will provide a consistent extra-empirical reference for them,
though we may feel sometimes that we see one trying to force itself
through, as in the concept of society's essence as something "dem-
ocratic and progressive." It seems to me that the dilemma could
be faced with more candor and realism. No practical man will
deny that the student of society can make use of many of the
98 Scientism and Values
findings of positive science. Things must be recognized in their
brute empirical existence; we are constantly running into things
of which we were unaware until they proclaimed their objectivity
by impinging upon our senses. And there are some things which
must be counted. A pure subjective idealism is, a luxury which a
few thinkers can afford, but it is not a prudential system. I for
one can hardly believe that science is, purely ancillary in the sense
of finding evidence for what we already believe or wish to believe.
The world is too independent a datum for that.
On the other hand, a large part of the subject matter of the
student of society does consist of the subjective element in human
beings. This has to be recognized as a causative agent. History
shows many opinions, highly erroneous or fantastic, which have
been active influences on human behavior. This factor has, to be
studied, but it cannot be simplistically quantified. Here at least
there must be room for speculative inquiry.
Finally, the student of society should realize that he is a man
writing as a man. He cannot free himself entirely from perspective.
His view of things can have a definite bearing on what is regarded
as a fact or on how factual units can be employed. To argue that
the social scientist should adopt no perspective on matters is per-
haps in itself to adopt a perspective, but a far less fruitful one
than those in which, with proper regard for objective facts, a view-
point is frankly espoused.
In view of these considerations, why does not social science call
itself "social philosophy"? This would widen its universe of dis-
course, freeing it from the positivistic limitations of science and
associating its followers with the love of wisdom. At the same
time it would enable them to practice the art of noble rhetoric
where it is called for, without unconscious deception and without
a feeling that they are compromising their profession.
NOTES
1. F. A. Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science (Glencoe: The Free
Press, 1952), pp. 13-14.
2. Clarence M. Case, Outlines of Introductory Sociology (New York, 1924),
p.627.
Concealed Rhetoric in Scientistic Sociology 99
3. Merton K. Cameron, "Some Neglected Aspects of the Problem of Pov-
erty," Social VII (September, 1928), 73.
4. T. H. Huxley has such admirable words of advice on this subject that
I cannot refrain from including them here: "Be clear though you may
be convicted of error. If you are clearly wrong, you may run up against
a fact some time and get set right. If you shuffle with your subject and
study to use language which will give you a loophole of escape either
way, there is no hope for you." Quoted in Aldous Huxley, The Olive
Tree (New York, 1937), p. 63.
5. For examples see F. Stuart Chapin, Cultural Change (New York, 1928),
p. 203; and Martin H. Neumeyer, Social Problems and the Changing
Society (New York, 1953), p. 48.
6. A. H. Hobbs, Social Problems and Scientism (Harrisburg: The Stackpole
Company, 1953), pp. 51-52.
7. 1358b.
8. Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives (New York, 1950), p. 45.
9. Neumeyer, op. p. 107.
10. George A. Lundberg, Foundations of Sociology (New York, 1939), p. 47.
11. 1356b. Strictly speaking, in the Aristotelian enthymeme all
the propositions are present, but one of them, instead of resting on
proof, rests upon "signs" or "probabilities." See George Hayward Joyce,
S. j., Principles of Logic (London, 1916), pp. 253-255.
12. Francis E. Merrill, H. Warren Dunham, Arnold M. Rose, and Paul W.
Tappan, Social Problems (New York, 1950), pp. 83-84.
13. Max Weber, The Methodology of the Social Sciences, tr. Edward A. Shils
and Henry A. Finch (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1949), p. 1.
14. Ibid., p. 2.
5
Fiduciary Responsibility and the
Improbability Principle
JAMES W. WIGGINS
The behavioral sciences, in so far as they attempt to be
sciences, share with other sciences several articles of faith. Among
these are the use of relevant concepts, prediction based on prob-
abilities, a commitment to objectivity, avoidance of value posi-
tions, a search for all the evidence, and a public methodology
which allows fellow scientists to test conclusions through replica-
tion. The scientist, qua scientist, is com,mitted to the presentation
of the results of his studies regardless of his personal approval
or disapproval of his findings. "He is neutral in the sense that he
will accept without personal reservation what his evidence has
revealed." 1 He is, by definition, opposed to personal or other
censorship which seeks to control or direct his search for such
aspects of truth as his methods allow him to apprehend.
The social scientist, then, like other scientists, has a kind of
fiduciary responsibility 2 both to his fellows and to the larger soci-
ety which supports him and his search. There can be little doubt
that, in the long run, his fiduciary responsibility must be accepted
and expressed with all care, if that society is to continue to give
him its confidence and support.
The purpose of this p.aper is to call attention to the apparent
100
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 101
reversal of a number of the canons of social science in conse-
quence of the value commitments of the scientist, which threatens
potential or actual loss of confidence by social scientists in their
own work. But more importantly, this reversal threatens loss of
public confidence that fiduciary responsibility is being honored.
1. The Value Commitments
The discovery of value commitments which interfere with
expressions of science requires neither unusual insight nor ex-
tensive examination of the literature. P.articularistic espousals are
stated directly and clearly in the public pronouncements of some
officers of national professional organizations and in some com-
mittees authorized to represent officially the organized member-
ship of the behavioral science fields involved. Basic agreement on
value positions and on programs of related actions are stated
directly or are clearly implied in papers presented to professional
meetings, sometimes published later, and in journals as reviewers
address a congenial audience. These values and goals of action
seem to be assumed to be so pervasive, so standardized, so mono-
lithic, that reviewers approach the point of saying, "Of course,
we all oppose (or support) this sort of thing." 3
But nowhere are the commitments of supposed "value-free"
behavioral scientists better expressed than in the platforms. of
some of the affiliates of national professional societies. The af-
filiates typically form an independent organization, dedicated to
one or several programs of action, and establish a journal. The
next step is for the group to petition for legitimacy, that is, for
affiliation with the general-and relatively respected-national
organization of their profession. This affiliation, if established,
both legitimizes the "action" or value-oriented group and adds to
its actions the apparent backing of the larger organization.
An analogous procedure wou ld involve the organization of
Catholic sociologists who are members of the American Socio-
logical Association into a Society for. the Propagation of the Faith.
The members of the new society would then petition for affiliation
with the American Sociological Association-and, as members of
102 Scientism and Values
the latter body, vote for affiliation. Thus. would the Jewish,
Unitarian, and Baptist (as well as atheist) sociologists come ap-
parently to support the propagation of the Catholic faith. It is not
suggested that this effort will ever be made, and certainly not that
this particular effort would ever be successful if made.
But similar efforts have been made and have been successful.
The Society for the Study of Social Problems "is .an affiliate of the
American Sociological Association. Its recurrent value statements
may be derived from analysis of the various issues of Social Prob-
lems) the publication of this special-interest group. In the words
of the respected Ernest W. Burgess:
It is fitting at this time to restate the objectives of our Society and to
define the role that is envisioned for this new Journal.
First, the organization of the Society is a recognition of the growing
importance of research on social problems. There is. the continuing
challenge presented by the crucial situations. confronting American
society to the development of policies and programs of action. Cer-
tainly the knowledge gained from social science research is basic to
wise formulation of policy and to the choice of effective programs of
dealing with these situations.
4
(Italics added.)
Professor Otto Klineberg, in the lead article of the first issue
of Social Problems) and on pages immediately following Burgess'
statement (above) expressed himself as follows:
... Those of us who concern ours.elves with social issues or social
problems, in the hope that we can contribute something to the im-
provement of human relations, are not in,frequently looked upon
with suspicion, as if we were somehow proving unfaithful to our
scientific Hippocratic Oath.
The fact remains that such a concern is growing rapidly....5
Later in the same issue, Donald V. McGranahan writes:
I think we can all agree that not much is really known about the
human implications of technological change in countries that are
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 103
called economically "underdeveloped." We cannot readily generalize
from studies in Western culture, because the conditions· are so
different in the economically underdeveloped areas.
6
But on the preceding page, Byron L. Fox had pointed out that
"Accordingly, it is logical to apply well-established sociological
principles, concepts and schemes of analysis at the world level." 7
(Italics added.)
McGranahan, however, continues:
At times social scientists who are liberal and forward-looking citizens
of their own countries give an impression of conservatism[l] when they
look at underdeveloped areas and stress only the dangers and evils of
development. . . .8
One point that has impressed me recently while reading E. H. Carr's
The New Society is the possibility that certain conditions which have
been considered socially undesirable consequences of development in
the West may, in fact, have played a functional role in the process of
development.... the situation in which unemployed men in England
were allowed to go hungry in the early part of the 19th century was
the result of the demand created by the industrial revolution "to
drive a hitherto predominantly rural working class into urban work-
shops and factories." ... Two possible methods of getting labor into
the new industries, were considered during the period-starvation and
forced labor ... and the policy of starving labor into factories was
followed.
9
Although it must be admitted that McGranahan does not ad-
vocate either starvation or slavery, he does conclude by saying,
H ••• let me repeat my plea that in vieWing the human implications
of technological change we do not become so fascinated by the
bad as to forget the good, and so protective of the present cultures
of underdeveloped areas as to wish to preserve these cultures
against the very idea of progress which we embrace for our-
selves." 10
Such missionary zeal for remaking underdeveloped countries,
104 Scientism and Values
whatever the cost, is comparable to the remarks of Nels Anderson
about the development of the underdeveloped U.S.S.R.
. . . in most Communist countries systematic efforts have been made
to change the ways of life and work of rural people. The farmer must
be separated from his traditions. Thus efforts have been made, ap-
parently with much resistance, but still with a measure of success, to
force farmers into various types of modernized collective groups.
Whatever the merit of these urban-conceived schemes, their objective
is to hasten a process which might in the long run take place any-
way ..." 11
This is an interestingly euphemistic way of describing the liqui-
dation of peasants and suggests that something like genocide might
well be supported if development, as conceived by some social
scientists, is thus facilitated.
For some years the Society for the Study of Social Problems
was closely associated with the Society for the Psychological Study
of Social Issues and in fact held joint meetings with the sister
group. On the instance of the latter group, this association has
been ended, although it is not clear to the writer whether one or
the other of these groups became too scientific or whether there
was a difference about platform planks)2 In ,any case, the Society
for the Psychological Study of Social Issues continues its affiliation
with the American Psychological Association, while it (the former)
continues publication of its Journal of Social Issues. The imprint
of the American Psychological Association on the frontispiece is a
kind of imprimatur which has apparent value for the espousals of
the Journal.
A third case in point is the Society for Applied Anthropology,
with its house organ, Human Organization. It should be noted
that this action group has not become an affiliate of the American
Anthropological Association. Its goals are relevant, however, to
the present interest. "Its primary object is 4the promotion of
scientific investigation of the principles controlling the relations
of human beings to one another and the encouragement of the
wide application of these principles to practical problems.' " 13 And
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 105
in another connection, clarifying the Code of Ethics of the Society
for Applied Anthropology, the reader is informed:
It has been emphasized in discussions that the applied anthropologist
may properly work for a partisan group within a society (e.g., the
National Association of Manufacturers, the Congress of Industrial
Organizations, the Anti-Saloon League, the Planned Parenthood
League, the National Catholic Rural Life Conference, the National
Conference .of Christians and Jews, etc.) recognizing that such groups
are a significant and important part of our social life and that im-
provements in the functioning and understanding of anyone such
group can be valuable to the whole society .. .1
4
It appears, therefore, that-discounting minor differences and
interdisciplinary rivalry-one might accept the inaugural state-
ment of Burgess on Social Problems) that H ••• It will join with
such kindred publications as the Journal of Social Issues and
Human Organization in promoting interdisciplinary exchange of
ideas and cooperation in interdisciplinary research. In short, it will
enable the Society for the Study of Social Problems to share its
interests with a broader public -and to accomplish its several mis-
sions more effectively." 15
In summary, it is rather obvious that substantial value positions
are explicitly stated as b.asic to the efforts of at least the identified
groups of professional behavioral scientists. The determination to
remake people, societies, and, in fact, the whole world shows
clearly in the foregoing, regardless of costs, in some cases at least,
and regardless of the resistance of part or the whole of the popula-
tions whose ways of life are displeasing to the scientists. This ,aim
can be understood perhaps in connection with another value, held
equally dear-the equalitarian orientation.I
5a
The effort to show
that eVffybody is, or is about to be, completely equal must hold an
element of uncertainty. If this is the fact, or is about to be the
fact, of human existence, it becomes clearly illogical and unneces-
sary to make it the goal of a social movement. (The social scientists
are, of course, exempt from equality, since they are in charge.)
In the pursuit of the goal of new creation, the capitalist eco-
nomic system must be inevitably suspect, since it distributes
106 Scientism and Values
rewards as if some people were unequal. It has also become in-
creasingly clear that the system of Communism also cannot be
trusted, since it also rewards (not to say punishes) people as if they
were unequal.
I6
Almost inevitably, but certainly factually, the
usurpation of the function of creator produces. a consistenly nega-
tive attitude toward organized religion, which has for millennia
offered its own conception of a Creator.
I7
2. T he Rejection of Concepts
Concepts in social science gain and retain their place pri-
marily through their varied functions in distinguishing, invoking,
and predicting properties extracted from reality which are rele-
vant to the particular science concerned.
IS
Discarding concepts
which have significant predictive and discriminating value because
of emotional pain is hardly congruent with the public avowals of
science. The following discussion will present the possibility that
the equalitarian position is so strong that important concepts have
withered if they stood in the way.
The chief identified inequality under active consideration by
social scientists at present in the United States is the inequality
of so-called minority groups. The term itself suggests persecution
and is primarily open to argument, since the people so identified
include such majorities as Catholics in Boston, Jews in parts of
New York City, and Negroes in southern Mississippi. And tech-
nically, they are not groups, but categories.
However that may be, within the minority category, the in-
equalities between the Caucasian and Negroid races attract most
attention and continuing efforts to reduce inequality. As a social
movement, this has much to commend it. As science, it is scien-
tism. This effort has led its exponents to seek the abolition of a
significant concept from the language of social and physical
science.
The concept of race is significant for psychology if it is
useful, ultimately, in predicting the emergence of properties
(behavior) in which the psychologist is interested. It is a valid
concept for sociology if through its use significant social or socio-
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 107
logical phenomena may be clarified, identified, or predicted. The
same can be said for other sciences, such as biology, anatomy, or
physical anthropology.I8
This is not to say that the specific word is crucial. The concept
may be identified as "tepic," or NMC
2
, or by any others of an
almost limitless range of symbols. The point under consideration
is the nature of the concept, not the symbol.
A. L. Kroeber, perhaps the "dean" of living anthropologists, has
written, "A race is a valid biological concept. It is a group united
by heredity: a breed or genetic strain or subspecies ... Physical
anthropology, being concerned with man's organic features, is
properly and necessarily concerned with the human races." 19 This
statement is supported by anatomists, who can cite hundreds of
structural differences between physical types. classified by the
concept of race, by physicians who accept patients from more
than one race, and by a variety of researchers in other fields.
A fairly early effort to discredit the concept was that of
anthropologist Ashley Montagu, in the publication of Man's Most
Dangerous Myth: The Fallacy of Race.
19a
A more recent example
is the somewhat testy correction by biologist Bentley Glass of a
quotation in Saturday Review ascribed to Glass, and stating that
differences in intelligence between races of men do exist. Glass
had said ((may exist, but we have no way of knowing." Professor
Glass does not even believe in intelligence tests, apparently, but
he certainly does not believe in race. 20
One of the most direct admissions of the impact of values on
concepts, and even on the concealment of findings causing emo-
tional anguish, came out of extended discussions of the "Statement
of Human Rights," 21 published by the American Anthropological
Association during the immediate post-World War II period. For
present purposes it is well to begin with a communication from
anthropologist John W. Bennett, in reply to previous comments
by Julian Steward and H. G. Barnett. Barnett and Steward, said
Bennett, were incomplete and unrealistic.
The arguments of Julian Steward and H. G. Barnett in their inter..
esting critiques of the Statement on Human Rights, published under
108 Scientism and Values
the sponsorship of the Executive Board of this Association, may be
summarized as follows: (1) Science cannot, through the medium of
scientific method, demonstrate the validity or "rightness" of any
particular point of view toward what is "good" for society and per-
sonality. (2) An attempt to do so perforce involves the scientist in
contradictions and pushes him into the peculiar position of elevating
his empirical knowledge to the level of values. (3) Therefore, science,
on the one hand, and value-making, policy-making, and moral-making,
on the other, are incompatible, and the individual must choose which
of these he intends to pursue. (4) They conclude that (a) profes-
sionals as a group had best avoid the field of social pronouncement
and value-supporting and adhere to science (Steward); and (b) the
support of social movements and causes is all right and even advis-
able, but let us do so honestly with a frank declaration of our position,
abandoning the attempt to justify our stand scientifically (Barnett) .22
Having thus discarded a reasoned statement of the method,
function, and goals of science, Bennett stated what he considered
the anthropologist's position and warned that science must stand
aside while the position is defended.
. . . In the quarter-century of our discussion of racism a similar con-
tradictory argument has been used: on the one hand, we have said
that there are no differences between human groups; on the other,
we have specified the scientific possibilities of difference and have
discovered some. Scientifically we know that differences between
human varieties can and do exist; ideologically it serves our purpose to
deny them. We have had our cake and eaten it too, but few anthro-
pologists would deplore our participation in the racist issue. We
apparently took the course in that particular issue of not daring to
admit the existence of differences, since we felt that a categorical
denial had more social value than a half-admission of difference.
23
(Italics added.)
But it is in his footnote that he drops the seventh veil:
Some of us say that the differences, while present, are unimportant.
We say this, however, with a sinking feeling, since it always throws us
open to the sneer: "See, first you said all races were equal, and now
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 109
you say they aren't. Make up your mind." In the whole racist struggle
we have done much more than merely say, "Your facts are wrong,"
but have always insisted that the use of the myths for purposes of
repression and discrimination were also wrong. Barnett's position
would really tend to imply that we must withdraw from antiracist
propagandizing.
24
(Italics added.)
These quotations were originally published more than a decade
ago and may consequently be considered out of date. The recent
presidential address of E. Adamson Hoebel, of the American
Anthropological Association, in December, 1957, promised a con-
tinuing dedication to science and antagonism to propagandizing:
... Professional anthropology achieves its basic strength through its
freedom from major concern with immediately practical problems.
Freedom from dominance by public policy and social reform. interests
lends to anthropology, as Riesman has observed, a greater degree of
objectivity and scientific imaginativeness than obtains in political
science and sociology....25
The day after the delivery of his address, however, Dr. Hoebel
was quoted in The New York Times as having said, "The ques-
tion of where they [children] should go to school is a burning
issue, but the anthropologists are joined together on the side
of integration."26
It is not difficult at this point to understand why the anthro-
pologist who wishes to study race and to publish his findings feels
oppressed. Dr. Carleton S. Coon, University of Pennsylvania,
outstanding physical anthropologist, said in 1951: "This tendency
has been carried so far that it is difficult to have a truly scientific,
objective book on race published or reviewed"; and in 1954,
"Basing their ideas on the concept of the brotherhood of man,
certain writers, who are mostly social anthropologists, consider it
immoral to study race, and produce book after book exposing it
as a 'myth.' Their argument is that because the study of race once
gave ammunition to racial fascists who misused it, we should
pretend that races do not exist." 27
110 Scientism and Values
But let us look in on the deliberations of the American Associa-
tion of Physical Anthropologists. These are the men who are
dedicated to the study of the structure of man as an index to
human behavior. Anthropologist John Gillin, having publicly
challenged statements by Dr. W. Critz George, of the University of
North Carolina's Medical School faculty, to the effect that there
are significant differences between the races, appealed to the
physical anthropologists to support his position. What was the
action of the physical anthropologists?
Amidst qualifications that this scientific (sic) society could not pass
on any political matter (Coon and Thieme), that Gillin's, quoted
newspaper statement was not quite accurate since there have not been
"hundreds of investigations" bearing on racial superiority (Spuhler),
that it (the report) could be adopted unchanged (Tappen), that the
statement was unclear as it stood (Howell) and ineffective (Gavan),
two general feelings emerged: that the society should back a man in
a difficult position asking for the society's support (Cobb, Coon,
Howells, Howell, Gruber, Thieme, Aginsky, etc.) and that we might
stress the lack of anthropological data which might justify racial
discrimination (Washburn, Greulich, Spuhler, Kraus, etc.). Brozek
pointed out that this hydra-headed subject of discussion raised (1) the
question of what we can do to help John Gillin [Note: This is a
scientific question?], (2) racial and ethnic discrimination as, a social
phenomenon, and (3) the need for a scientific statement with proper
definitions on the subject of biological superiority versus inferiority.28
(Italics added.)
After further consideration of what could be done to help
John Gillin in his argument with Dr. George, the society voted
"overwhelmingly" that "They support Dr. John Gillin in, his
recent position in this respect." 29
3. The Improbability Principle
Physical anthropologists do not concentrate on the study of
behavior, but rather attend to structure. Sociologists, and psy..
chologists study behavior and have a number of interests· in
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle III
common. Both fields of study, when they are most scientific,
depend on statistical methods expressing probabilities. The con-
cept of statistical significance describes a degree of association
between an independent variable (cause) and a dependent variable
(effect) greater than can be explained by chance. Such a statement
oversimplifies and is especially unsatisfactory in the inferential
use of cause and effect.
Nevertheless, it seems reasonable to expect that, if specified
classes of phenomena are associated with other specified phenom-
ena more frequently than would be explained by chance, this
finding would be useful in prediction. Thus, the concept of race
and certain other" phenomena are more frequently associated
than chance would allow.
In this area the sociologist and the psychologist are not without
data. Otto Klineberg's often cited Race Differences is used as a
basic source. An exhaustive study for the period, and a careful
one, it is ordinarily mentioned in support of the statement that
Northern Negroes made higher scores on World War I Army
Alpha tests than did Southern Whites. Seldom is the fact men-
tioned that Northern Whites. consistently surpassed Northern
Negroes.
3o
A more recent study of the many published comparisons of in-
telligence by racial categories, The Testing of Negro Intelligence)
by psychologist Audrey M. Shuey, has been met so far by silence
from the reviewers in professional journals. One reviewer did give
it attention, under the title, "Cat on the Hot Tin Roof," which
suggests the unfavorable verdict. (An almost automatic party line
of silence or sneer comparable to the one in this country does not
yet seem to exist in Great Britain. 'Thus, Professor Shuey's book is
praised as a "painstaking and valuable contribution to the litera-
ture of social and racial differences" by W. D. Wall of the National
Foundation for Educational Research in England and Wales in his
review of the book in the Sociological Review [December, 1959],
published by the University College of North Staffordshire.)
It is possible to follow the propagandizing scientist one step
further. It is not only difficult for him to examine and report find-
ings suggesting significant correlations between race and other
112 Scientism and Values
variables, but he may also completely reverse his methodology and
embrace the principle of improbability. The logic of improbabil-
ity is illustrated by this reasoning. Far from accepting the state-
ment of the anthropologists that race is not a significant discrimi-
nating concept, the improbability scientist calls attention to his
occasional finding that an exceptional member of the "minority"
race performs better than the average of the "privileged" race. He
then seeks to convince us that the "minority" is superior by citing
the improbable finding of a negligible number of cases. When the
data all point overwhelmingly in an undesired direction, they may
be explained away through the application of special criteria ordi-
narily ignored in the evaluation of scientific research.
Sociologist George Lundberg recently commented insightfully
on this "state of affairs."
There are doubtless many reasons for this state of affairs. I should
like to call special attention to only one of them because, although it
reveals. a laudable human quality, it is inimical to objective analysis.
I refer to the sympathy of social scientists, as well as most other people,
for certain currently disadvantaged minorities. One shrinks from too
rigorous or objective examination of people whose misfortunes one
recognizes and deplores. As one of my friends (the editor of a leading
journal of opinion) put it on reading the analysis which follows
below: "Regardless of the logic and the we must lean over back·
wards in the special cases before us because a more realistic view
would merely be seized upon by the prejudiced as vindication of their
hostility. Any aid or comfort to this group is in the direction of
Hitlerism, convent-burning, etc. That danger transcends all other
considerations." This attitude is certainly understandable, and one
cannot help but admire it as a finely motivated position. Yet I believe
that in the long run it only injures the cause it seeks to advance. In
objective scientific analysis there can be no "leaning over" backwards
or of the type contemplated. Any leaning toward or away
from conclusions scientifically wart:anted in order to conform to
desired ulterior ends, however laudable under existing mores, is recog-
nized by all scientists as a negation of science.
31
That there are some publicly identified social scientists who do
not let the problem interfere with their espousals is shown in the
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 113
exchange some years ago between Gustav Ichheiser and the late
Louis Wirth. Ichheiser rather innocently pointed out that "It is a
universal human fact that people tend to consider different those
who look different.... minorities are likely to interpret as a plot
what is only a natural majority reaction to personal differences." 32
Wirth wrote that these statements could not possibly be correct
because there were people who had been socialized to ignore dif-
ferences in skin color and hair form. Furthermore, he added that
"White people who even share more intimate experiences with
Negroes [than dancing] are not necessarily deceiving themselves
in thinking there is no significant difference between them." 33
Wirth said that the ability to discern differences and to relate
oneself to people in terms of these recognized differences was
prejudice. "I ... consider anyone prejudiced who ... approaches
a new experience with a preconceived judgment and assigns that
experience to a preformed category." 34 Prejudice clearly is not, by
this definition, a valid concept, since the typical relationship of
man to man is based on such classification, not to mention the
relationship of man to maid.
Wirth's scientific language was gracefully expressed when he
vented his spleen (scientifically?) on Ichheiser, thus:
As far as I know, no one with any sens,e in the field of race relations
[i.e., no scientist] seeks to deny differences in physical characteristics
[This excludes the physical anthropologists cited above, because they
have no sense] or even in cultural characteristics. They do, however,
object to the chauvinistic [scientific epithet?] racialist suggestion that
the two invariably [Italics added. Very high positive correlation which
absolutely nobody suggests] go together.
Ichheiser concluded by a resort to analogy:
We treat dogs and cats as two different animals, not because of a
cultural definition, but because cats and dogs look different, and if
social scientists (as presidents of a council on dog-cat relations) would
start to convince the common man that dogs and cats are alike, and
"only" look different, the sole result of such an action would be that
the common man would start to laugh about social scientists. Even
dogs and cats themselves would not accept this redefinition.
35
114 Scientism and Values
The present writer has no interest, for the purposes of this pre-
sentation, in the question of racial differences. Certainly he has no
interest in restricting opportunity arbitrarily beyond the absolute
minimum required for social order in any society. But he is pub-
licly identified as a sociologist, and, being so identified, he is
alarmed at the cited tendencies to ignore the rigorous require-
ments of the scientific quest for knowledge because of value com-
mitments. It is amazing that the threat to the profession is not
more widely recognized and that there is so little effort to allay
the "sinking feeling" to which Bennett referred above.
I t would be unfair to conclude the paper on a note of complete
pessimism about the behavioral scientists, in spite of the value
positions, the rejection of concepts, and the acceptance of the im-
probability principle. The "minorities" which attract most atten-
tion are the loudest, and it is hoped that the "scientists" who have
been considered here are themselves a minority.
Fortunately there is a model available. Dr. C. P. Oberndorf, in
his presidential address to the American Psychopathological Asso-
ciation in 1954, described the necessity of overcoming personal
preferences in the light of scientific "truth."
Terms such as option, discrimination, preference, selectivity, and
segregation are generally in disfavor in the social scheme and phi-
losophy of 'a democracy such as we live in. So, at the outset, I wish to
make unequivocally clear my agreement with this philosophy and
opposition to legalized segregation in the social scheme. . . .
The need for a second hospital for the insane in New Mexico is
great.... However it is likely that should a new hospital be designated
exclusively for Spanish and Indians, or Anglos and Indians, staffed
correspondingly, incensed protestations against such segregation might
arise from each of the three groups concerned-and this in the face of
the obvious benefits, from the psychiatric angle, which such separa-
tions, might yield. . . .
Certain groups to which we belong, being biologically determined,
never change. They are: sex, (2) age, and (3) color groupings. The
question of separating the first group (sex) in hospitalization is never
questioned and rarely is the second, namely, the undesirability of
mixing children with adults, and more recently, of ever growing num-
bers of old-age psychotics with the average adult age group.
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 115
. Some years ago the question came up in the Committee for
Mental Hygiene Among Negroes of the impossibility for Negroes to
avail themselves of treatment in the best private mental hospitals in
the New York area. An ever-increasing number of Negroes, mostly
from the fields of amusement, literature, and sports, can afford such
accommodation. Therefore, in line with the contention of this presen-
tation, I suggested the establishment of an endowed mental hospital
for Negroes with private quarters, similar to the one (Hillside Hos-
pital) I had proposed in 1922 for Jews, which would cater to the
latter's, linguistic and ritual needs. It was based solely upon the
opinion that it is simpler to achieve a restitution to health when the
patient's confidence is gained and this is more readily attainable in a
setting in general sympathy and empathy with his previous experience.
However, a Negro member of this committee, a journalist, quietly
replied, "Doctor, others see a different solution of the problem"-
distinctly indicating the exertion of pressure to force a change in the
position of established white institutions, completely misunderstand-
ing the psychiatric basis of my proposal.
It would seem, then, that an institution such as the Veterans Hos-
pital at Tuskegee, where an all-Negro staff of psychiatrists and
nurses administers treatment to an all-Negro patient population,
serves this particular group more efficiently than would be possible
with a white staff.36
Dr. Oberndorf thus states his value pOSItIon, but clearly and
logically moves it aside when his professional and scientific deci-
sions must be made. He, it appears, is willing to "accept the conse-
quences of scientific discovery, even when \t makes him, emotion-
ally uncomfortable."
I can find no conclusion for this paper that compares with an
excerpt from an article by Morton Cronin, who, strangely for pres-
ent purposes, is a professor of English. After pointing out that the
intellectual (under which concept we may subsume the social
scientist) always enjoys a larger measure of freedom than the aver-
age citizen, he continues:
Now it may be that a given population as a whole should be freer than
it is to express opinions. But no matter how free it becomes in this
respect, its intellectuals-if it has any-must be freer. This may be
undemocratic, as the scientist's (sic) special right or the judge's may be,
116 Scientism and Values
but without these special rights we can have no scientists, judges,. or
intellectuals.
I must now recite the killjoy lesson that exceptional privileges
usually entail exceptional obligations. The intellectual's most im-
portant obligation consists in maintaining a greater degree of inde-
pendence, integrity, and candor in his relations with the world than
can be reasonably expected of most men. His primary duty is to tell
the whole tmth as he sees it, in detail as well as, in general. His
primary duty is not to make that truth prevail. In fact, if he slips too
deeply into the tactical maneuvers of social action, especially those
which require close organizational ties, he will, like a judge who
wades in politics, evoke the suspicion that he can no longer be trusted
with his special prerogative. And this suspicion will be justified by
the common experience of mankind. For when an individual becomes
profoundly involved in a program of political action, he usually can-
not be counted on to make a fair assessment of opposing programs.
Such involvement on the part of an intellectual will be enough to
establish the presumption that he has stopped being an intellectual
and can now with propriety be treated as factionalists treat one an-
. other.
37
NOTES
1. Arnold W. Green, Sociology (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company,
1960), 3rd ed., p. 7.
2. Talcott Parsons, "Some Problems Confronting Sociology as a Profession,"
American Sociological Review, Vol. XXIV, No.4 (August, 1959), pp.
547-559.
3. Curiously, and perhaps unfortunately, most of these values and goals of
action seem to have one basic source: resentment. Professor George
Simpson of Brooklyn College in his book Sociologist A broad (The
Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1959) writes with charming candor: "Anyone
who hopes to wind up as a good sociologist must, I think, start origi-
nally with some hurt, some feeling of resentment against the society ex-
istent, which leads him to find out what is wrong with that society.
Wishing to relieve his own dissatisfaction, he seeks to universalize his
hurt and is thus led on to discover why human beings have to suffer.
And he will remain a good sociologist only so long as the hurt or re-
sentment continues to exercise some influence on his professional be-
havior." (p. 168.)
4. "The Aims of the Society for· the Study of Social Problems, "Social
Problems, Vol. I (1953), pp. 2-3.
5. "Prospects and Problems in Ethnic Relations," Social Problems, Vol. I
(1958), p. 4.
Fiduciary Responsibility and Improbability Principle 117
6. "Some Remarks on the Human Implications of Technological Change
in Underdeveloped Areas," Social Problems, Vol. I (1953), p. 13.
7. "The Cold War and American Domestic Problems," Social Problems,
Vol. I (1953), p. 12.
8. Op. cit., p. 14.
9. Op. cit., pp. 13, 14.
10. Opt cit.} p. 14.
II. Nels Anderson, The Urban Community: A World Perspective (New
York, 1959), pp. 101, 475.
12. It is not impossible that this development is related to the extension of
state laws for licensing professional psychologists in recent years. There
is some inference here that sociologists and anthropologists are no
longer legitimately concerned with the social issues staked out by psy-
chologists. See discussions in American Sociological Review, Vol. XXIV,
Nos. 3, 4 (1959).
13. Human Organization, Vol. IX, No. 1 (Spring, 1950), p. 1.
14. Ibid., Vol. X, No.2 (Summer, 1951), p. 32.
15. Burgess, op. cit., p. 3.
l5a. For those who reject this value, the label "authoritarian personality"
has been developed and documented at length, and with multiple tabu-
lations.
16. See Milovan Djilas, The New Class (New York, 1957).
17. Auguste Comte, it will be remembered, established a new "organized"
religion. But a cursory glance into introductory textbooks in sociology
will confirm this point. While there are a few exceptions, the very popu-
lar Sociology, by Wm. F. Ogburn and Meyer Nimkoff, in its various
editions has divided events into two categories: fact (i.e., science) and
fantasy (religion). It is not suggested that science should espouse or-
ganized religion, but neither should science attack it-as science. See
also, in this connection, C. P. Oberndorf, "Selectivity and Option for
Psychiatry," American Journal of Psychiatry, April 1954, p. 754.
18. Professor Wolfram Eberhard, sociologist and anthropologist at the Uni-
versity of California in Berkeley, pointed to the mental block produced
by egalitarian commitments in much of American social science, when
he examined why the ethnologist Richard Thurnwald has had so little
impact in the United States: "Thurnwald started out from the point
from which many theories started, the obvious connections between the
economic system of a society and its societal structure. But keeping away
from the one-sidedness of economic determinism, he tried by careful
field-work or by painstaking study of the reported data to uncover the
exact type of economic-social interrelations.... This led him to his
theory of 'superstratification' as a factor of decisive importance.... Re-
sistance against this theory in the United States seems to stem basically
from a feeling that to accept as 'normal' a hierarchical order of people
in all higher organized societies would go against a belief in democracy."
(Uln Memoriam Richard Thurnwald," Revista do museu Paulista, Sao
Paulo, Vol. IX, 1955, pp. 297 £.)
19. A. L. Kroeber, Anthropology (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company,
1948), p. 124.
118 Scientism and Values
19a. New York, 1943.
20. Saturday Review, Nov. 16, p. 58.
21. American Anthropologist, N. S., Vol. XLIX (1947), pp. 539-543.
22. Ibid., Vol. LI (1949), p. 329.
23. Ibid., p. 331.
24. Ibid., pp. 334, 335.
25. American Anthropologist, N. S., Vol. LX (1958), p. 635.
26. December 30, 1957.
27. Atlantic Monthly, Vol. CXCVIII (Nov., 1956), p. 31.
28. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, N. S., Vol. XIV (1956), pp.
366-7.
29. Loc. cit. Gillin's statement included the remark that "Science has shown
that all living human beings are members of a single zoological species,
Homo sapiens." The concept of species is a useful, although arbitrary,
taxonomic device. But scientism consists in part of dramatically invoking
scientific jargon to overawe the layman. It is probable that both Pro-
fessor Gillin and laymen recognize differences among members of single
species and really consider some of them important.
30. New York, 1935.
31. "Some Neglected Aspects of the Minorities Problem," Modern Age, Vol.
II (Summer, 1958), pp. 287-288. It would be interesting to know the
reaction of an editor of a professional journal if offered the manuscript
of this balanced and realistic treatment.
32. "Factors in Race Relations," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. LIV,
No.4 (January, 1949), p. 395.
33. Op. cit., p. 400.
34. Loc. cit.
35. Op. cit., p. 401.
36. "Selectivity and Option for Psychiatry," American Journal of Psychiatry,
April, 1954, pp. 754-758.
37. "The American Intellectual," AAUP Bulletin, Vol. XLIV, No.2 (June,
1958), pp. 409-410.
6
Knowledge: Unused and Misused
HELMUT SCHOECK
I
Probably there is no way of knowing what it pays most· to
know first. Laymen and many of our students, even after they have
gained some familiarity with a chosen discipline, rarely realize the
elements of chance and willful or unconscious bias in every field
of science and scholarship which are inescapably linked to the fact
that we have to conduct our work in a time seties of now and later.
There is not only the possibility that a wrong choice of priority
will exhaust time, funds, scarce experimental materials (for in-
stance, the minute quantity of a new element or compound iso-
lated for the first time) or the scholar's creative haul. A wrong
choice of priority in research can also lead to effective blocking,
for an indefinite time, of those research paths which would have
yielded the desired or the most important result. This problem is
essentially the same for all human efforts to widen knowledge.
When "science," i.e., an individual scholar or team of scholars,
selects the less productive avenue of investigation, the results can .
be disastrous. The phenomenon of fatigue in metals can remain
a marginal research problem until one day airplanes of a new type
start plunging to earth mysteriously.l
Evidently man can do little to avert such calamities. If he knew
always in advance which approach would yield most, he would
119
120 Scientism and Values
have to possess, in many cases, so much knowledge already that the
particular research problem might not be a problem at all.
Not long ago a physicist, comparing natural and historical
studies, emphasized the importance of seeing, or seeking, relevant
lacunae in the realm of specific experience chosen by a given
scholarly discipline.
2
The social sciences, i.e., the systematic efforts
to study man in social action, might well profit from a similar
emphasis.
Sometimes a proved lacuna-the nearly total absence of a trait,
value complex, or expectation-in a society or culture will be
more indicative of its potentialities than a dozen surveys proving
the presence of certain values, attitudes, or habits. Of course, as
teachers of all disciplines well know, few tasks are as· hard as
teaching the students how to watch out for significant lacunae, for
meaningfully empty slots in a multidimensional realm of hypo-
thetically possible referents.
Obviously, like every other researcher and scholar, the person
who "derives satisfaction" from studying man as a social being
o makes subjective decisions when he chooses hypotheses, ap-
proaches, units, classes, places, and many other possible or neces-
sary limitations on what he actually will and can examine. We
can survey the failures in a given society, and, curiously, social
scientists show a preference for them; or we can, as Carle C. Zim-
merman of Harvard has done, focus on a unit such as the "suc-
cessful American high school family." 2a
More important, however, than a mere shift of attention might
be a systematic search for indicative lacunae in social reality. Of
course, here the research situation is not comparable to the work
of the natural scientist. In society we miss such seemingly simple
situations as a substance turning out to be sterile when it should
show growth of germs. There are very few, if any, "either-or," "all-
. or-nothing" propositions. Even a proof of what we take to be, say,
genuine altruism will not rule out the presence of intense poten-
tial ,hatred and egotism, though some social scientists seem to pro-
ceed on that assumption. Nor can we count on exact complemen-
tariness or correspondence between polar entities or referents
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 121
which we use in the social sciences. (For that reason, I am suspi-
cious of polar typologies, e.g., Gemeinschaft-Gesellschaft dichoto-
mies. They lure us into fallacious, and yet perhaps sometimes
self-fulfilling, prophecies of decline and decay.) 3
For instance, is it not a testimony to the blindness of social
scientists and critics that they ignore such a significant social la-
cuna in America as the paid blood donor? In 1956, of all blood
donated in the United States, only two percent came from people
who received payment for it. Even in Germany, during the height
of "social solidarity" under Hitler's war propaganda, the paid
donor was the rule. In 1959 in West Germany one of the smaller
political parties could urge its members to donate blood for pay
to earn money for the party treasury. The bloodmobile, collecting
blood on a voluntary and unpaid basis, left a group of Soviet medi-
cal officials, visiting New York in September, 1956, speechless. In
the Soviet Union one would not dream of collecting blood on a
noncommercial basis. Has anyone ever bothered to use this "social
fact" for correcting the caricature of Am,erican society that the
world has received, and still gets, from official social science? 4
II
There are quite a number of foci of research and general
scholarly concern that, in my judgment, omit crucial aspects. For
instance, I am not encouraged or comforted by all attacks that are
currently carried on in the name of a crusade against scientism.
In current trends of criticism, a number of my friends in the
world of scholarship engage in a particular vein which troubles
me. It is their organized hostility toward various forms of adver-
tising.
This hostility is in reality an old prejudice among some intel-
lectuals. They would be amazed to know how much of their criti-
cism stems from men such as Fourier, who merely dreamed of
things to come in the field of "hidden persuasion."
In America, I could name Joseph Wood Krutch and W. H.
Whyte, Jr., among the more congenial authors, and John Gal-
122 Scientism and Values
braith, Vance Packard, and Leopold Kohr, among the less conge-
nial, as critics whose worst fear of "scientism" is focus,ed on its use
in the economic market.
It is perhaps quite interesting to observe how criticisms of ad-
vertising-which have been commonplace in America and Eng-
land during the past two decades-are now being reformulated in
some West German philosophical quarters as ideas, which no one
since Fourier and Karl Marx knew how to express.
The gist of these criticisms can be given in a few words. Man-
they say-is caught in a vicious circle. He is the slave of a system
which must use any and all methods of hidden persuasion to sell
him things under false pretenses, things which he does not need
and which are often worth much less than claimed. Man loses his
humanity (HSelbstentfremdung des Menschen" according to Marx)
because of his fixation on acquiring things for consumption, a
fixation imposed upon him by others.
Sometimes the critics assert that this advertising apparatus of
mass persuasion is especially dangerous because it lends itself to
misuse by seekers after political tyranny.
This last assertion is not intrinsically related to the other criti-
cisms of advertising. But even this assertion does not stand up.
For after all, hidden mass persuasion could also be used by persons
wanting to get rid of an obnoxious government. See, for example,
the subtle slights on the planned economy in Great Britain by a
little Mr. Sugar whose image, I believe, appeared on all sugar
products.
As long as there is some freedom of communications-of the
press, of advertising, of broadcasting-the same methods can be
used by all antagonists. As long as we believe that one party or
group may have a better case than another, there is no reason why
the case for a free society should not be advanced for some voters
by methods that do not require intellectual virtuosity for compre-
hension.
Politics could be separated from the methods of hidden persua-
sion only if our modern mass democracies could bring themselves
to reintroduce a highly unpopular limitation: a restricted suffrage.
So long as we adhere to the theory that all human beings ought
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 123
to take part in the political process, even those who are eighteen
or twenty-one years of age, and regardless of signs of sane judg-
ment, no politician will ever be able to refrain from using methods
of hidden persuasion. And so long as we believe that some politi-
cians will protect the interests of a free society better than other
politicians (even though most of these may not protect it fully to
our own liking), it is hardly good judgment to argue for the abo-
lition of such methods. of persuasion. As we have come to see in
our times, the political party which we think represents the lesser
evil will abide by the ban on hidden persuasion, whereas the po-
litical party which we most fear will not abide by the ban.
I should like to examine the case against advertising, against
"hidden persuasion," put forward on grounds of human dignity
and freedom of choice.
To clear the decks, let me first dispose of the false notion that
the use of hidden persuasion, of "all-out" advertising, is more or
less restricted to a capitalist economy. The facts are to the con-
trary. If the state industries in the Soviet Union happen to mis-
judge consumer wants and needs, and turn out too many ill-con-
structed, poorly working TVsets at a time when people prefer Hi-Fi
sets, we now have evidence that the Minister of Economics will use
hidden persuasion to make Russians buy poor TV sets instead of
good gramophones. (See Foreign A f J a i r s ~ July, 1960, p. 629.)
As far as the question of free and wise choice is concerned, I fail
to see any special problem or villainy in the consumer goods in-
dustries when they are compared with other fields. of activity. So
long as we want men to be free to marry the wrong girl at the
wrong time, we can hardly advocate a curb on the advertising of
baby carriages and washing machines. No misjudgment in the pur-
chase of durable goods can be as much a threat to happiness as
misjudgment in selecting a mate. Women are much more perma-
nent than motor cars, as many alimony-payers no doubt are well
aware!
The other argument against our present economic system (often
made by people who wish it well in general) is this: We are de-
prived of some intrinsic human values when we are conditioned
to take a fleeting attitude toward our material possessions. We
124 Scientism and Values
know that We shall buy another car, household appliance, suit,
etc., before long. Leopold Kohr goes so far in his book, The Break-
down of Nations} published in 1958, as to attribute supreme
happiness to men of former centuries who could wear a cloth for
life.
5
Speculation on what makes human beings happy probably is not
a proper subject for scholars. Least of all, however, do I like it
from those (J. Galbraith, Leopold Kohr, and others) who once at-
tacked our capitalistic society when it was allegedly rigged for
scarcity.
I submit that interpersonal relations in a society of abundance
can be much better than in a society having to make do with a few
things for a lifetime. It is in precisely the latter that relations are
such that human beings are slaves to things.
Some of us may remember years and decades of extreme scarcity.
Replacement of lost or damaged things was virtually impossible.
And most people behaved accordingly. A child who made cracks
in an appliance or furniture, who broke windows, a stranger who
accidentally made a cigarette-burn in another person's jacket, a
maid or husband who dropped a china plate, all these became the
subjects of strained and often extremely tense human relation-
ships. We were slaves to things because we knew they had to last
indefinitely.
In comparing human behavior under conditions of scarcity and
abundance, it is interesting to read Hilde Thurnwald's published
survey of family relations in Berlin after World War II. I recall
from her observations the case of a well-bred, intelligent father
who carried his CARE packages home and secretly devoured the
contents in the basement. Is he a more encouraging figure of a
man than the typical upper-middle-class American father of today
who, with his family, indulges in a perhaps overstylized barbecue
ritual in a backyard with dozens of what the antiadvertising intel-
lectuals call "unnecessary frills and gadgets"? 6
Relations between motorists involved in an accident, parents
and children, supeTVisors and employees, and countless other rela-
tions of daily life become much more tolerable, much less of a
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 125
strain, much less fraught with anxiety when all those who take
part are aware that no thing has to last for ever.
I contend that the industry which is geared to make last year's
car obsolete is far from being the materialistic threat to a good
society which it is almost invariably pictured as being by the anti-
advertising If we just want it to he so, and if we
refuse to let the hidden persuaders of the Galbraith variety spoil
our attitude toward reality, it ought to be much easier to become
less materialistic and less attached to any given thing today than
it was in times when most men were "stuck" for life with all the
things they had to use.
I believe it would not take unusual labor to find in psychiatric
literature a number of cases showing mental disorder precisely on
the basis of a pathological attachment to a thing which the owner
believed to be irreplaceable. I have observed, in otherwise per-
fectly sane families, ugly scenes between normal people at the
very moment when one member of the family thoughtlessly used
a thing or commodity which the specific owner deemed (often
irrationally) unique or extremely difficult to replace or refill.
I am equally sceptical of the Pavlov conditioning theory when
it is used to promise social harmony between incompatible groups
provided they "can be made to get used to each other."
Man's sphere of free choice and privacy has shrunk in recent
decades, partly because of the transfer of experimental findings
from the level of animals to that of human beings. Social reform-
ers, while professing concern for the unique dignity of man when
asking for individualistic legislation, often show a remarkably cyn-
ical and brutal concept of man when they use facts of experimental
conditioning of rodents to dispel the warnings of those who think
that Sumner's mores will outlast many generations of reformers to
come.
Several observers noted the perfectionism of the reformer as a
cause of the shrinkage of personal freedom in our time. In a
particular yet important case, this perfectionism resembles the
quest of natural scientists for pure systems, compounds, elements,
and the like. It expresses a wish to see the absolute maximum of
126 Scientism and Values
a given process. Physicists try hard to produce the lowest tempera-
ture theoretically possible. Similarly, reformers insist on a satura-
tion point of contact between disparate groups. They detest any
sign of what might be called rough spots between members of the
human race. They promise a future without tensions-a term
characteristically adopted from mechanics. This desire results in
an anomaly-altruism by decree. The administration of this Uto-
pia proceeds by means of informal social controls, of "group dy-
namics," and of legislated or discretionary governmental power.
In all cases this administration is based essentially on a transfer
of certain discoveries made about animals, and about human
beings under very specific conditions, to human social action at
large. It is based on the theory that if only we can bring together
in long enough contact the members of some groups that have not
previously shown great sympathy for one another, they will even-
tually acquire altruistic and sympathetic attitudes toward one an-
other.
In the musical play The King and I
J
this is the theme which
Oscar Hammerstein put into the lyrics of the song "Getting to
Know You" as a remedy for the social and political ills of our
times. When Edward R. Murrow asked Mr. Hammerstein over the
air why he supports so many "liberal" causes, Mr. Hammerstein
cited that theme song and suggested that if we knew all about one
another, as the English school teacher knew about her Siamese
pupils, the age of bliss would be near.
When we review hundreds of supposedly scientific articles about
"intergroup relations," they appear to add little beyond "'!\That is
implied in Mr. Hammerstein's song. The concept of "mixed neigh-
borhoods" in city planning-a source of considerable waste and
disappointment-assumes, as does the scholastically nondiscrimi-
nating comprehensive high school, that permanent brotherhood
will emerge between people of different outlook and achievements
if we can keep them in physical proximity long enough for human
nature to evaporate.
When the proponents of such schemes are pressed for reasonable
proof of .a sound basis for their optimism, they usually cite some
"psychological facts of learning" derived from experiments with
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 127
rats. However, the moment we ignore these experiments and con-
sider the meagre responsiveness of human beings to various forms
of knowledge and propaganda in nonlaboratory situations, we find
little basis for such optimism.
I have probably been exposed to thousands of the most intrigu-
ing advertisements and broadcast commercials for various tobacco
products. None has succeeded in turning me into a smoker. On
the other hand, the rather overwhelming and threatening scientific
correlations between smoking and serious ailments have registered
remarkably little persuasion with medical men, who go on smok-
ing as usual.
It may be one of the most arrogant errors of social science to
claim and enlist legislative support for the hypothesis that men
could become predominantly altruistic creatures without strong
hostilities toward anyone if only they could be properly condi-
tioned.
It is still fashionable to belittle or ignore the existence of human
nature and to disregard its, stubborn and mischievous potentiali-
ties. On the other hand, the same people who ignore human nature
are only too eager to assum,e there is a world-wide identity of
human nature when they dream of a world free from conflict and
with equal standards of living. Obviously, either one or the other
of these views must be given up.
I t would call for much longer treatment than is possible in this
essay to try to analyze the fluctuations in the concept of human
nature set forth by influential public figures and commentators in
recommending mutually exclusive remedies for social and political
problems, depending on where the sore spot happens to be located.
Domestically we are asked to expect wonders from coerced con-
ditioning; from shows of force by wise men who, by contrast, are
convinced that a show of force and strength is entirely lost on
peoples of the Middle and Far East. And if there is an ethnocen-
tric tendency to suicidal resentments in human being (and I have
observed it in many forms), then it would seem at least as unreal-
istic to expect lasting peace to be created by paratroopers in Ar-
kansas as in Algeria.
7
While studying a n i m a l ~ , our students of human behavior have
128 Scientism and Values
completely failed to reckon with the phenomenon of cumulative
resentment in human beings of a kind that is a negligible drive in
animals.
Of course, I am aware of the possibility that some authors make
merely political and expedient use of these inconsistencies when
judging social problems. But I think, nevertheless, that indulgence
in such hypocrisies is made easy for them by the failure of the
contemporary anthropological disciplines to commit themselves to
a firm concept of human nature.
III
The term refers only to the fallacious use of the
methods of certain natural sciences when we ought to study man
as a unique being with emotional, mental, and social potentialities
above those of known animals.
Obviously, a critique of scientism does not imply wholesale con-
demnation of the adoption of the m,ethods of natural science. In-
deed, some of the worst culprits of scientism have merely intro-
duced the wrong tools and procedures of the natural sciences into
the social and moral sciences. They have ignored a number of
powerful intellectual and observational instruments of the bio-
logical sciences which we could well have used in the study of man
in his social context. I am thinking here of criteria of form, of
congruity v. incongruity, considerations of symmetry-in short, of
morphological approaches to reality.8 Sociologists, for instance, are
most reluctant to recognize persistent styles of social life, for fear
of being undemocratic. And yet it is the integrating reality and
indefinite life-span of such diverse styles of human life which
permit almost unlimited peaceful coexistence of capsular group
life.
Much of the damage which has been done to fairly well-
functioning systems of existing societies, in the name of social
science, might have been avoided if sociologists and social psychol-
ogists were held, by the profession, to that minimum, observation
of natural morphological criteria which we expect the anatomist to
respect. One of my academic teachers, the zoologist Karl von
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 129
Frisch, in his course in comparative anatomy, called the human
pelvis the worst possible solution nature could have found for the
birth-act. But I have yet to hear a doctor urging compulsory pubic
symphysectomy for all females of our species.
On the contrary, the natural childbirth fad, with its emphasis
on "constructive pain,H gained favor exactly among our "progres-
sive" social scientists, such as Margaret Mead, who would, in social
life, gladly turn society upside down in order to eliminate (largely
imaginary) social pains of some members of society.9
I reject the organismic concept of society, especially when used
in rhetoric for recommending public policy. No group of individ-
uals becomes more accessible to theoretical comprehension if un-
derstood as an organism. No"diseased" part of society necessarily
impairs any other, although, of course, some pathological condi-
tion in society might spread because of contiguity. Why should we
expect much good to come from telling members of a society that
they owe each other a great deal because they are all part of an
organism? If this is urged, we usually iend up with a system. in
which we constrain one another rather than release the individual
creativity. Moreover, should we not justly resent the bureaucrat
who wants to plan our welfare because he defines himself as head
and us as limbs of the "good society"?
Some of the foregoing may seem r e d ~ n d a n t . After all, who has
taken the organismic theory of society iseriously in recent years?
But when we examine the speeches of. contemporary politicians,
presidents, and prime ministers, it is qu!ite easy to show that their
grandiose flights of thought and rhetorical promises often implic-
itly rest on an organismic concept of society.lO
It is especially disheartening to see some intellectuals insist that
it is about tim.e for them to take charge of the "organism society,"
because life has become too complex for the common man.
l1
Much of the current attack on the political and economic system
we live in (and some "really advanced" critics are "farsighted"
enough to include in their condemnation East and West in order
to be still right if and when the Soviet Union can satisfy all con-
sumer wants) stems from a peculiar kind of scientism. It is partly
historicism, partly a kind of philosophic trespassing. Perhaps it
130 Scientism and Values
grows in part from the organismic theory of civilization. Plat?,
Rousseau, Fourier, Marx, and others are cited with their models
of man and community in order to declare our present society
doomed.
But is it fair, either to the present structure of our economy and
to today's people or to the originators of social ideas and phi-
losophies in centuries past, to force them together in all. analysis
of current social reality? In doing this we perpetrate a historical
incongruity. It is unfair to Plato when we use his concept of a true
polis to measure our sorry state of politics. At the same time we
are unfair to our fellow citizens when we measure their actions and
attitudes against the what-might-have-been in the time of Plato
had he succeeded in saving the old Greek polis.
We have no way of knowing what Plato would have thought,
felt, and advised had he had even a faint glimpse of societies (or
nations) with 50, 170, 200, or 650 million citizens. Nor can we
estimate the stature of any contemporary man by supposing his
arrival in a Greek polis of 500 B.C.
Of course, there are specific existential-ethical, philosophical
-situations where a man must seek his place in a field of conflict-
ing values. These situations can be essentially the same in ancient
as well. as modern times. But this is different from' attempts to
apply what we know of the ancient polis as a real ideal-type to
the study of contemporary society. I am wary of the theme of the
"lost community." This is a crypto-quantitative comparison which
tries to match wholly incongruous societies for the purpose of
learning something about the quality of human relations.
When we examine publications in the field of theoretical and
applied social science, two trends seem to run parallel: There is
the preference for reducing the study of man in his social interac-
tion to the measurement of the percentage of incidence of clumsily
extracted attitudes and hypothetical responses to hypothetical situ-
ations.The other trend is the habit of crediting the arbitrarily de-
lineated collective with all those faculties and potentials which are
no longer attributed to individual members of society. A good
example of this tendency to throw individuals, to the mercy of
Knowleage: Unused and Misused 131
"wise society" can be found in the proceedings and final resolution
of the American Assembly in 1953, called together to discuss "SOM
cial security in modem times." 12 But any actuarial examination of
social security schemes in advanced democracies shows that these
collectives have less wisdom and long-range foresight in planning
the welfare of society than has the average head of a family for his
dependents.
One reason for this, of course, is that the head of a family can
be sure of love and support even if he has to make, in the interest
of long-range goals, economic decisions which frustrate the imme
M
diate preferences of some members of the family. The govern-
ments of democracies usually believe that they cannot afford such
sanity. It is "politically impossible."
Possibly, as Richard LaPiere shows in his book, The Freudian
Ethic (1959), the same sentiments and pseudo ethics that have ren-
dered impotent whatever wisdom may be available to some men
in government now tend to corrupt at least certain families in
America. Parents read that they ought to run the family by public
opinion polls among brats. If this should become a dominant fea-
ture of our families, it is likely that more and more of them will
become incompetent. In so far as this stems from the same source
as the cancer in government-a vulgar misunderstanding of de-
mocracy and equality-I see little reason for optimism when the
more powerful of two incompetents, a certain type of modern
government, tells a certain type of modern family that it needs the
central government to protect it from its own folly. A collusion of
two fools will hardly lead to a sane public policy.
In some circles of contemporary sociology it is fashionable to
view society and its subdivisions as "systems." Often, however, it
seems to me, not enough care is taken in regard to important onto
M
logical distinctions. For instance, Karl von Frisch, in his studies
of the bees, conceives of their state as a highly articulate system;
but we hardly assume the bees to know themselves as constituent
members of a system. In other words, there are at least two differ-
ent possibilities when we speak of a social system. The researcher
and theorist, in order to make puzzling phenomena comprehen-
132 Scientism and Values
sible, may try to sort out specific units from a range or cluster of
phenomena and call their interdependency, their functioning, a
system. This does not require conscious behavior on the part of
those units, or of a majority of them, as members (and in terms)
of a system. The "system," its functional value, may have come
about by natural selection. We might think here also, for instance,
of the nervous system or certain ecological systems made up of
different plants and lower organisms.
And even when we speak of "American society," for the most
part we have a system before us that functions in all its complexity
on a level of mutual consciousness and recognition not very much
higher than the systems mentioned above. Except for a few intel-
lectuals perhaps, most Americans, whose daily activities over cen-
turies helped to create a complex and highly productive socioeco-
nomic system, did not, and do not now, go about their business all
the time thinking of their social system.
By contrast, there are social systems that are systems precisely
because of a theory of a specific system that preceded them in time.
They remain functioning systems only as long as most of their
members remain intensely conscious of the theory that has welded
them into a system. Any complex group of human beings perform-
ing a highly specialized service, whether it be Lloyd's of London,
an opera company, or the general staff of an army, might be men-
tioned as illustrations. Yet again, there is a difference between the
social system of Lloyd's, a modern opera hous.e, and the German
General Staff. Unlike the former, which grew gradually by trial
and error, the German General Staff was an articulate and func-
tioning social system mostly by virtue of all its members' constant
and intens,e dedication to the theory which had put the system
into existence.
If these different meanings of the term "social system" are con-
fused, naive yet ambitious legislators and policy-makers often may
come to expect from "society" a continuous performance on a
level of cohesion and dedication which we could expect only in
the best circumstances from a system of the type illustrated by the
General Staff.
Knowledge: Unused and Misused
IV
133
As several papers in this. book argue, without conscious com-
mitment to value judgments we can hardly hope to gain a concept
of the true, Le., least coercive and least fr.agile, relationship be-
tween man and his society. I should like to show that even our
"highly scientific" natural sciences cannot do without such value
judgments. (Michael Polanyi, in his Personal Knowledge: Towards
a Post-Critical Philosophy) published both in Britain and the
United States in 1958, presents the same argument in detail.)
Let us examine the work of the chemist. He serves one of the
oldest true natural sciences. His knowledge caused some of the
most spectacular transformations. of our internal and external en-
vironments.Chemistry, among other deeds, helped medical art
become, in part, scientific. Laymen and social scientists accept
chemistry as a true representative of the exact and nonsubjective
natural sciences where measurement rules and the subjectivity of
human sensory experience has been replaced by apparatuses re-
cording in figures and decimals.
Especially, the public may believe, chemistry without exception
is an exact science with demonstrable nonevaluative proof when
the judgment and findings of a chemist are introduced in court
and a man can be convicted on such evidence. This is a fairy tale.
Recently I refreshed my merp.ory of my own studies in that field
in a long talk with a young doctor of chemistry who works in a
state laboratory controlling foods and beverages. Quite a number
of his analyses, on the basis of which a manufacturer or innkeeper
may be sentenced to jail, depend on the simple fact that chemist
and judge agree on a single sensory perception which most people
would call a culture-bound value judgment. A stench is a loath-
some stench in certain cultures only. Yet, I was told, it may suffice
for conviction even if a sample of suspect fat eludes all other
methods of quantitative and qualitative analysis. However, even
though chemist and judge agree on a stench as the criterion of
unfitness for human consumption, the same intrinsic sensory ex-
134 Scientism and Values
perience might make the same sample of food a delicacy in another
culture.
The most recent reference books in the field of food chemistry
abound in value judgments when stating criteria for finding butter
or meat unfit for human consumption. Delicate and highly subjec-
tive syndromes of color, odor, and texture, of just plain "looks,"
guide the chemist when he has to pass his scientific, expert judg-
ment on butter. Often it is not a question of poisonousness at all,
but simply a question of aesthetics.
13
Psychologists of language know that the olfactory sense of hu-
mans permits distinctions for which no general verbal referents
exist. When chemists communicate about a certain analytical fact,
they rely on reasonable identity of subjective experiences which
are completely absent for some members of the human race.
14
When the chemist applies his science and expertness to the judg-
ment of food samples in criminal cases, for instance, he is per-
mitted the use of words such as "loathsome," "sickening," "repul-
sive," and judge and jury are likely to agree. But if· a sociologist
should be caught by his profession, calling polygamy, communism,
or the system of the Soviet Union "loathsome," he is immediately
attacked as "unscientific" ~ r "unscholarly." (The censure is less
likely to follow should he label capitalism or profit-seeking a
loathsome business!) And yet the weight the chemist's expertness
gathers in court is due .to the fact that what he refuses to eat a
layman also refuses to consume. This is not made invalid by the
fact that we can always find some people who would love, or could
be "brainwashed" to consume, that particular sample of food.
Therefore, what is so "unscientific" about a political scientist or
economist who calls a planned or an egalitarian economy a "loath-
some" affair? Surely he can find plenty of common folk who would
know what he means· as precisely as does the public which agrees
with the food chemist.
A man whose sense of color is impaired could hardly work as
chemist or physician. Only recently have methods and apparatuses
become available which substitute for the human faculty of recog-
nizing a change in color.
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 135
And yet studies of individual variations show that human beings
vary considerably in their faculty of identifying specific stimuli for
the senses. What the chemist or physician relies upon is average,
a reasonable, and sometimes probably culture-bound ability of
ordinary people to find identical verbal referents. or memory
images ("smells like ...").
However, it is very doubtful whether today's political science or
sociology would permit me to size up the future actions of a
Castro or Nasser on the basis of comparing my impression of his
performance in a television interview with my memory images of
a Hitler. I may do this, perhaps, as an essayist or journalist, but
not as an observer who claims scholarly or scientific authenticity.
And yet I believe I can show that the essential complexity of the
syndrom,es perceived is not greater in the last case than in the case
of a chemist or medical pathologist who testifies .about his find-
ings in court. Is it not strange that iln audience of ordinary people,
when shown successively a movie of Hitler and one of Nasser or
Fidel Castro, each addressing a crowd, would instantly, without
even understanding German, Arabic, or Spanish, recognize some
intrinsically common fe.atures; whereas, I am, afraid, a professional
group of political scientists might squeamishly refuse to commit
themselves to any cognition from which inferences for policy deci-
sions could be drawn?
It seems we know much more about men and their likely actions
and potentials than the behavioral and "policy sciences" permit us
to know and say officially. We may lack "scientific" methods, espe-
cially quantitative ones-as does the analytical chemist-for assess-
ing and recording the rottenness of a form of leadership, but there
is no reason why we could not reaffirm the freedom, of qualitative
judgment when studying, let us say, a labor union monopoly or
junta.
What we students of man and his organization need more than
new fancy methods and methodologies is a general recognition that
sometimes our judgments may be as old-fashioned as those of a
modern food chemist. We must recapture the scholarly legitimacy
of ordinary observation when deciding between better and worse,
136 Scientism and Values
between more or less functional, more or less apt to cause friction.
This could bridge the gap between a lost discipline-moral phi-
losophy-and comparative political science, sociology, and eco-
nomics.
In saying this, I do not ignore the element of human freedom
and its role in our specific subject matter, human action. True,
there is the (remote) possibility that a labor union hierarchy, after
being called rotten to the core, might pick itself up and become a
bevy of altruistic stewards of power. Obviously, rancid butter will
never respond to the verdict of a chemist.
We touch here a most vexing problem. It has been discussed
under such titles as "private versus public prediction" or "self-
fulfilling and self-defeating prophecies." Robert K. Merton, K. R.
Popper, and others have dealt with it. Value judgments as well as
seemingly neutral bodies of data in the social sciences have conse-
quences within their subject matter, men and groups of men.
Again we have to guard ,against an overstatement of this fact.
It is not an exclusive faculty of human beings. Lower forms of life
also may evade-as if rational-the application of human intellec-
tual concepts. Certain stocks of germs are known to outwit the
antibiotics researcher by selectively outbreeding his luck with re-
sistant strains. In other words, it may be as difficult for man to
freeze advantageously his relationship to his nonhuman environ-
ment as it is toward his fellow men. We seem as capable of over-
reaching our supply of natural resources (experimenting in the
name of material progress) as we are capable of overextending our
resources of altruism, good will, and patience (experimenting in
the name of social progress). A biologist enthralled by the beauty
of a theory can destroy an ecological equilibrium in nature as
surely as can a sociologist or economist in society.
Almost every time a finding or a hypothesis is. made public by
a student of human action, it leads to an artifact. In this regard
there is little difference in effectiveness (dangerousness) between
the various methods. A bluntly evaluative term can cause as vio-
lent a response as the dry publication of a set of telling figures.
Consequently, limiting ourselves to quantitative behavioral sci-
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 137
ence, seemingly free from value judgments, will not prevent the
occurrence of unexpected or unwanted reactions in the groups and
societies we are studying.
As social scientists, as students of social interaction, we are in-
escapably responsible for a stream of artifacts unless we remain
forever silent about what we believe we know. We cannot prevent
the intrusion of novel facts and data-providing processes into the
field of study as .a result of our work. We share this problem with
the natural scientists, but sometimes we suffer more from its con-
sequences.
What troubles me, however, is the failure of so many social
scientists to concern themselves with their artifacts as systemati-
cally and conscientiously as the microscopic anatomists did when
they wondered whether their dyes had caught structures in nerve
cells or merely made cracks in a formerly unstructured whole. Too
many social scientists seem unequipped to tell cracks from struc-
tures, especially when they produce the former.
The pathologist or the haematologist, in reaching a crucial dif-
ferential diagnosis, may rely on criteria of form, color, texture,
contiguity, and configuration which defy verbal, let alone quanti-
tative, objectification. The same is true of the engineer, the archi-
tect, the physicist, and the mathematician. I!> These scientists and
scholars may declare a certain solution to a problem less elegant,
less desirable, than another without being obliged to offer any
other reasons save their cultivated sense of form and coherence.
But woe to the sociologist, economist, or political scientist who can
cite no statistical figments to buttress his preference for one type of
organization over another. Is it really so significant whether or not
a socialist economy could solve the problem of allocation and dis-
tribution in some fashion as long as enough sane men agree that
the market mechanism is a more elegant and aesthetically pleasing
method for these tasks? Do we need quantifying policy sciences to
find (or doubt) that political succession by election or hereditary
monarchy is more elegant and aesthetically pleasant than one by
murder?
Ironically, natural scientists possess the privilege of falling back
138 Scientism and Values
on intrinsic human experiences as ultimate and .axiomatic proof-
and reason for preferences-whereas the students of man are no
longer allowed to argue on the basis of their introspective knowl-
edge of what fits man best.
v
It shows the present-day delusions of behavioral scientists that
they scoff at methods and criteria of cognition which still belong
to the standard arsenal of chemistry.
Sub rosa) of course, we know that all we have for telling a differ-
ence in our social environment are our traditional terms of refer-
ence, no matter how far out of line they are with the "progress"
of social science. For instance, what is the test for the degree of
deterioration of a city section?
The New York Times can hardly be accused of unfairness to
nonwhite racial minorities. Yet, in a long and learned survey of
the disturbing decline of "urban quality" in the city blocks sur-
rounding Columbia University, the writer for the Times) with
apologies, admitted that the only genuine criterion for the worsen-
ing of an urban area is the influx of Negroes and Puerto Ricans.
He wrote: ~ h i s is an unpopular criterion, but it is the best yard-
stick of urban decline.
And the University of Chicago, desperately trying to get rid of
slums around its campus, helped build a belt of luxury apartment
houses with rents assuring a white neighborhood, a sin against the
times for which this bastion of racial egalitarianism was attacked
in the press.
16
In brief, no matter how social scientists may measure "progress"
in "social" or "democratic" attitudes, when it comes to city plan-
ning as a means of saving cultural centers from going under in a
sea of slums, "liberals" and conservatives often employ the same
traditional criteria for what is good and what is worse.
I have tried to show the scholarly legitimacy of s:ubjective (de-
pending on impressions of a sensory and cultural quality) value
judgments in the study of social man.
But it is not enough if, for instance, I can show the scholarly
Knowledge: Unused-and Misused 139
respectability and epistemological legitimacy of a statement such
as "communism smells." Harold J. Laski, in his last book, criti-
cized Sir Winston Churchill who, by rallying the Atlantic commu-
nity of nations, committed a crime against history when he saved
central and western Europe from Moscow, thus, as Laski put it,
perpetuating the bad odor of decaying capitalistic society.l" Whose
sense of smell shall prevail? I think egalitarianism smells. Many
others say every sign of social stratification emits an odor of rotten
social fabrics.
Of course, there are some tests, inductive at best, which should
support one kind of value judgment against another. For instance,
we could examine the net migration of man. Many more people
constantly flee from state socialism to the West than from the
"decaying West" into "flourishing empires" of the East. The egali-
tarian kibbutzim in Israel are losing members as did all such uto-
pias that ever existed. IS But this test would not help us in all cases
of social and political analysis.
Hitler Germany, for instance, succeeded in luring back into the
"community" many ethnic Germans from abroad, even Austrians
from Italy. I recall an Austrian-Italian waitress in a hotel by the
Mediterranean in Nervi near Genoa in 1949. She spoke to us
about fellow Austrian-Italians, including her brother, who fol-
lowed Hitler's call to "return" north ten years earlier. She was still
wondering what had made them run: "All of a sudden," she said,
"the blue sea was no longer blue. Why?"
Is it that some personalities can best win a sense of importance,
temporarily perhaps, by following the charism of the collective,
while others, for their sense of well-being, need personal freedom,
even at the cost of temporary hardship and disappointment, to
such .a degree that they move away from planned, paternalistic or
collectivistic systems whenever they can?
Perhaps it is so difficult to develop a social science congruent
with human nature because we are always faced with "mixed
societies," made up of both types of people, thus never allowing
even an approximate congruousness of theory and actual behavior,
save for short periods and specific instances.
Thus, at any rate, even if Red China, for example, somehow
140 Scientism and Values
could induce man.y of the overseas Chinese to flock back to the
mainland, instead of the present exodus of her nationals, her fel..
low-traveling friends in the West could not use that fact as a cri-
terion of her goodness unless they retroactively granted the same
to Hitler's Third Reich.
19
NOTES
1. The problem of priOrity in research obviously can become crucial in
medical science. Errors in choice of strategy may be fatal. See, for in-
stance, the controversy over "Probability, Logic and Medical Diagnosis"
(a paper by R. S. Ledley and L. B. Lusted) in Science, CXXX, July 1,
1959, and October 9, 1959.
2. Henry Margenau, "Physical versus Historical Reality," Philosophy of
Science, XIX (July, 1952), 203.
2a. Carle C. Zimmerman and Lucius F. Cervantes, Successful American Fam-
ilies (New York: Pageant Press, 1960).
3. For the concept of self-fulfilling prediction, see Robert K. Merton, Social
Theory and Social Structure (Glencoe: The Free Press, revised edition,
1957), chap. XI, "The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy." For a very sane critique
of the Gemeinschaft-Gesellschaft dichotomy, see Richard T. LaPiere, A
Theory of Social Control (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company,
1954), chap. I.
4. Kathleen McLaughlin, "u. S. Blood-Giving Baffles Russians," New York
Times, September 13, 1956. See also New York Times} April 27, 1958,
p. 15, on blood donors.
5. See also Leopold Kohr, "Toward a New Measurement of Living Stand-
ards," American Journal of Economics and Sociology, XV (October,
1955), 93-102.
6. According to a poll in October, 1959, the vast majority of Americans,
and, interestingly enough, especially the upper-middle class, approve of
advertising. Could it be that our professional intellectuals, as in so
many other areas of life, worry themselves to pieces about a problem
which is of little concern to those on whose behalf they worry?
7. Compare, for instance, the New York Times of August 3, p. 10 E, and
August 17, p. 5 E, 1958, for the entirely different moral verdict on the
use of force, as well as the estimate of its success, when it comes to
dealing with Nasser versus dealing with a state of the United States.
8. For a meaningful use of the concept of asymmetry in sociology, see, for
instance, Richard L. Meier, "Explorations in the Realm of Organization
Theory," Behavioral Science, IV (July, 1959), 242.
9. See Margaret Mead's attack on the book Don't Be Afraid of Your Child
by Hilde Bruch, American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, XXIV, 426-428,
and the defense of Bruch's book by William S. Langford, ibid., 838 :£f.
10. For typical illustrations, see text of President address at
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 141
Abilene, New York Times, October 14, 1959, or text of American Assem-
bly Report, New York Times, October 19, 1959. See also American
Assembly on Economic Security, Columbia University, 1954, p. 7, n. 16.
II. The canard that modern society and modern "life" have become too
complex and too "big" for individuals and local agencies to handle is
being heard over and over again. Arthur Larson, for instance, said:
"... you ask yourself if any private-enterprise firm, any insurance com-
pany or combination of insurance companies, any state government or
local government could administer Social Security. Of course, it couldn't.
Social Security covers hundreds of millions of people [really that many?]
going all over the earth." ("A Mike Wallace Interview with Arthur
Larson," The Fund for the Republic, 1958, p. 10). Professor Larson,
formerly a Special Assistant to President Eisenhower, forgets to explain
only one thing: Why should it be necessary at all for a single agency to
cover all those "hundreds of millions of people going all over the earth"?
Why not let a multitude of local and smaller agencies and insurance
companies administer the voluntarily chosen insurance schemes of in-
dividual families?
The rhetoric of "complexity" is also found in a Senate bill to "estab-
lish a permanent Advisory Commission on Intergovernmental Rela-
tions," S. 2026, Congressional Record, May 21, 1959, p. 7851: "Because
the complexity of modern life intensifies the need in a federal form of
government... ."
The lack of empirical basis, the emptiness of the complexity-argument
is brought out by D. R. Price-Williams in his review of Mental Health
Aspects of the Peaceful Uses of Atomic Energy in Population Studies,
July, 1959, p. 126.
12. See reference 10 above, last item.
13. Much of the following information I received from Dr. Heinz Grimm,
chemist and pharmacologist at the Austrian federal institute for pure
foods in Vienna. For this method of applied chemistry see Kurt G.
Wagner, "Zur Theorie der Bewertungsschemata fiir Lebensmittel,"
Deutsche Lebensmittel-Rundschau, XLV (June, 1949), 145-149. Wagner
stresses "that the exaggerated preference for numerically measurable
facts" [scientism too!] among chemists led to the relative neglect of the
organoleptic method with its somewhat subjective statements, although
it is still in many instances the only useful method. Wagner also com-
plains-and here the chemist sounds almost like a nonscientistic sociolo-
gist-that some of his fellow chemists should have devoted as much time
and mental effort to the systematization of the sensory methodology as
they wasted on playing with apparatuses (p. 145), especially in view of
the fact that the chemistry of nutrients cannot do without judgments of
smell and taste. Wagner knows that only people with special gifts of
these senses ought to work as nutritional chemists and fears errors from
the less gifted.
More recently, Professor D. J. Tilgner gave a brilliant defense and
survey of the sensory analysis of nutrients. His bibliography includes a
number of items in English. ("Der gegenwartige Stand der quantitativen
142 Scientism and Values
und qualitativen sensorischen Analyse der Qualitat von Lebensmitteln,"
Deutsche Lebensmittel-Rundschau, LIV [May, 1958], 99-108). I should
like to cite some of them here: H. S. Groninger, Tapper! and Knapp,
"Some Chemical and Organoleptic Changes in Gamma-irradiated Meats,"
Food Res., XXI (1956), 555-564. D. Sheppard, "The Importance of
Psychophysical Errors," J. Dairy Res., XIX (1952), 348-355. E. L. Pippin,
A. A. Campbell and Streeter, "Flavour Studies," J. Agric. and Food
Chemistry, II (1954), 354-367. M. M. Boggs and H. L. Hanson, "Analysis
of Foods by Sensory Difference Tests," Adv. Food Research, II (1949),
219-258. H. L. Hanson et al., "Sensory Test Methods," Food Techn.,
IX (1955), 50-59. D. R. Peryam, "Hedonic Scale Method of Measuring
Food Preferences," Food Engng., XXIV (1952), 7. E. C. Crocker, "The
Nature of Odor," Techn. Associat. of the Pulp and Paper Industry,
XXXV (1952), 9.
Tilgner emphasizes the differences in talent and gifts in sensory com-
petence among chemists, especially the varying gift of feeling (Gefilhls-
begabung) which is important when it comes to deciding qualities and
degrees of appetizingness or loathsomeness. And yet, Tilgner joins the
Australian chemist, D. W. Crover, ("Progress in Food Analysis." Food
Manuf., XXV, 1949) in saying that the present status of the sensory
(organoleptic) method permits results so precise that this method belongs
to the chemical-analytical methodology. Microchanges in protein mole-
cules, for instance, which elude ordinary chemical analyses, can be dis-
covered quickly and definitely by the sensory method (p. 100).
Incidentally, at this point, the method of the food chemist and the
medical haematologist become similar epistemologically.
Thus, in practice, the natural sciences are far from being reduced to
the study of the measurable. Curiously enough, E. C. Harwood ("On
'Measurement as Scientific Method in Economics,''' American Journal of
Economics and Sociology, XVII [October, 1957], 101) challenges Leland
B. Yeager's claim that there are social scientists narrow enough to restrict
science to measurement. At any rate, I can name one: the sociologist
Franz Adler, who wants to restrict to pure measurement even so delicate
a field as the sociology of knowledge. The original view that science is
measurement, of course, was given by Galileo, who wrote: "My program
is to measure what can be measured and to make measurable what can-
not be measured yet." (Galilei, Opere, ed. by Alberi, IV, 171). But it is
very doubtful whether Galileo ever would have thought of "making
measurable" those phenomena which our scientistic students of man
insist on measuring.
14. Biochemical individuality and the sense of smell is one of the problems
intriguing Roger J. Williams. See his books Free and Unequal (Austin:
University of Texas Press, 1953), p. 32, and Biochemical Individuality
(New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1956), p. 180.
15. The issues of qualitative versus quantitative judgment and the element
of subjectivity in the field of haematology are discussed, in a vein sup-
porting my argument, by St. Sandkiihler, "tiber Dokumentation von
Knochenmarkbefunden," Rontgen- und Labor-Praxis, X, 278-280. Or,
Knowledge: Unused and Misused 143
take another area of medical diagnosis, the perception of macroscopic
syndromes, e.g., the first diagnosis of coronary occlusion as reported in
R. H. Major, Classic Descriptions of Disease (2nd ed.; Springfield:
Charles C. Thomas, 1939), pp. 464 If. Similar problems of subjectively
differentiating diagnosis face the archeologist: "Modern archeology has
reached a point where many possible patterns and hypotheses can be
suggested, each of which seems to propose cultural 'facts' that are not
necessarily mutually exclusive and that do not necessarily contradict
each other but which in the same body of materials reflect various
aspects of a many-sided reality.... In the case of cultural pattern or
configuration, however, the 'reality' of proposed fact is less apparent
because the particular interests of the investigator, and perhaps the
historical development of the science, intrude more strongly into the
result." (Joseph R. Caldwell, "The New American Archeology," Science,
CXXIX [February 6, 1959], 305.)
For the problem of elegance in research and theory, see, for instance,
John D. Tsilikis, "Simplicity and Elegance in Theoretical Physics,"
American Scientist, XLVII (Spring, 1959), 87-96.
16. "Renewal Project Divides Chicago," New York Times, September 28,
1958, and Sol Tax, "Residential Integration: A Chicago Case," Human
Organization, XVIII (Spring, 1959).
17. H. J. Laski, The Dilemma of Our Times (London, 1952), pp. 46 f.
18. Seth S. King, New York Times, February 20, 1958; see also Amitai
Etzioni, "The Functional Differentiation of Elites in the Kibbutz,"
American Journal of Sociology, LXIV (March, 1959), 476-487.
19. Ironically, and pertinent to this point, Walter Lippmann, in the early
spring of 1960, used migration figures from West Germany to East Ger·
many cited by the Communists as evidence that all could not be so bad
in East Germany as to warrant a strong stand on the part of the West
in regard to the Berlin question. And yet, a few weeks later a flood of
refugees, unprecedented in recent years, began to reach West Berlin and
has not yet subsided at the time of this writing.
7
Scientism in the Writing
of History
PIETER GEYL
When I was invited to take part in the Symposium on Scien-
tism and the Study of Man, I happened to be preparing the vale-
dictory oration I was to deliver on the occasion of my retirement
as Professor of Modern History in the University of Utrecht. The
organizers were good enough to allow me to use that paper as my
contribution to the symposium but, although it gave rise to an
animated, and to me enlightening, discussion, I had felt all along
that it was not really very closely related to the central theme of
the symposium.
What I spoke about to my audience in the Aula of Utrecht
University on May 31, 1958, was "The Vitality of Western Civil-
ization." I used an occasion which was bound to attract attention
to speak my mind on a matter that had for a long time irritated
me and that I consider to be a danger to our Western community,
viz., the irresponsible depreciation of our civilization, the wallow-
ing in visions of decay, the belief that a new world was beginning,
or had begun, in which we should take our tune, if not from the
Russians, then from the Asiatics or the Africans·.
That oration of mine 1 should not be interpreted as a hymn of
pr.aise to the times we live in; it was not meant as such. Nor did
I want to extol Western civilization as the salt of the earth or to
144
Scientism in the Writing of History 145
decree a permanent inferiority for races which are obviously com·
ing into their own. I only wanted to affirm, as strongly and per-
suasively as I could, that no matter what was happening to the
rest of the world, we still have a duty to ourselves, above all to
believe in ourselves, to believe that we still have a contribution to
m.ake, and that the only way in which we can do this is by remain-
ing faithful to our own traditions. All this seemed to me, and it
still seems to me, of such overriding importance, not only becaus.e
of the awakening of the Asian and of the African peoples, but
especially because there is Russia, or there is Russian-Chinese
communism, threatening us directly and ready to make use of all
our weaknesses.
We are suffering from weaknesses. Generally speaking, these do
not, in my view, spring from factual conditions; they belong to the
realm of the spirit. They result from a mood, or a combination of
moods. In analyzing these I indicated a variety of sources. One is
the disgruntlement of the once dominating class at the irresistible
emancipation and growth in material well-being of the working
classes. Another is the concern of the religious-minded at what
seems like an equally irresistible development of dechristianiza-
tion. Then there is the anger, the feeling of frustration, of an ex-
colonial power suddenly thrown out of a position of which it had
been proud, not only on account of the wealth and influence that
went with it, but on account of the task we had fulfilled, with con·
viction, and not without benefit for the peoples under our rule.
Anger and a feeling of frustration are not all. Along with them
there goes a more complicated psychological reaction of all. oppo-
site tendency, a feeling of guilt, a feeling of having transgressed
against these peoples and of having to make up to them now.
I need hardly say that, while my oration was intended for a
Dutch public, all these various factors have their parallels in other,
more important, European countries.
In expounding the state of mind that I have just adumbrated,
and in trying to counter the fallacies to which it gives rise, I spoke
as a historian. Or perhaps I should say that, while speaking from
a conviction that is rooted in the whole of my outlook on life, or
in my personality, I felt my views supported by what I consider to
146 Scientism and Values
be true history; in any case, I thought it particularly incumbent
upon me to expose the false history so often adduced by the pessi-
mists.
The pessimists? This word, too, stands in need of qualification.
Pessimism often enough takes on the appearance of optimism and
adopts the tone of cheerfulness and hope. Our civilization is, so
we are told (by Marx, for instance, and his followers), in the last
stage of decay, but what will come after its final dissolution will
be of a higher quality and worth all the upsets and the sufferings
that we have still to face. Not that this disguise of optimism is
required to tempt everyone. There is in human nature an inclina-
tion which responds to visions of ruin and decay. Against them
the divine promise of eternal bliss can shine with greater radiance.
Take Augustinus; take Bilderdijk, the great Dutch counterrevolu-
tionary poet. But even Spengler's unadulterated pessimism found
a receptive public.
Now all these prophets of woe and of repentance, and the joyful
announcers of a new and blissful dispensation as well, like to
appeal to history. History in their hands is made to conform to the
system which they need for their gloomy or hopeful visions.
It is, I suppose; an ingrained habit of the human mind-and, in-
deed, it is a noble ambition-to try to construct a vision of history in
which chaos, or apparent chaos, is reduced to order. The historical
process is made to conform to a line, a rhythm, a regulari ty-a move-
ment, in other words, which obeys definable and intelligible laws
and whose continuation can, therefore, be predicated by the observer
beyond the moment of his own life.
So I expressed myself, ten years ago, when setting out on a dis-
cussion of the works of Sorokin and of Toynbee. "A noble ambi-
tion." But also: "The historical process is made to conform." In
other words: Violence is done to the historical process. Some years
later, when I was invited to deliver the Terry Lectures at Yale
University, I chose the use and. abuse of history for my subject.
2
In dealing with it, I naturally devoted a good deal of attention to
Scientism in the Writing of History 147
the problem of scientism, that is, the undue application of the
terminology and of the methods of science to the study of man,
and I had indeed faced it before, as the passage quoted from my
essay of 1949 makes clear. Yet I must confess that until I received
the invitation to this symposium, I had not, as a matter of fact,
ever dealt with the problem exclusively, let alone exhaustively.
Now, instructive and at times revealing as I have found the four
days' discussion to which it has been my privilege to listen and
in which I took part, I am still inclined to view scientism pri-
marily as one method out of several in the service of an attitude
of mind-of a mood, be it of a compelling desire to recast the
world in conformity with an ideal, or merely of dissatisfaction, of
despair. And perhaps it is enough to point to the more general
human trait to which I alluded in the passage quoted, a trait
stronger in some men than in others, of being liable to be fasci...
nated by a system, any system. This tendency, if examined more
closely, will generally prove to be connected with the habit of
thinking in absolutes, which may be characteristic of a minority
of men only, but which can develop great dynamic power and
carry away simple-minded multitudes.; or with the craving for
certainty which all of us can observe in ourselves, although here
again some are less able to bear uncertainty than are others.
Now the historian, as I have insisted time and again (and I
never imagined that I was saying anything new or original), moves
in a sphere of uncertainty. We keep on trying to get into touch
with the realities of past life; the inexhaustible attraction of his-
tory is in that it does help us to achieve this miracle; yet at the
same time its revelations will always be incomplete; there always
remains something mysterious and unfathomable.
As I wrote in the first page of my essay on Ranke,3
History is infinite. It is unfixable. We are trying all the time to reduce
past reality to terms of certainty, but all we can do is to render our
own impression of it. No book can reproduce more than a part of that
reality, even within the confines of its particular subject; and each
book contains something else, which gets mixed up with historical
148 Scientism and Values
truth in an almost untraceable manner, which does not necessarily
turn it into falsehood, but which nevertheless transforms it into some-
thing different from the simple truth-I mean the opinion, or the
sentiment, or the philosophy of life, of the narrator; or in other words,
the personality of the historian.
No certainty, no finality. "History," so I put it in my Napoleon
For and Against)4 "is an argument without end." The discussion
is not fruitless, far from it. But every conclusion reached, helpful
and satisfying as it may be, and seemingly well established, will
lead to further questioning, which will reveal in it weak spots or
unsuspected implications, and at any rate the debate will continue.
The ambitious systems, the philosophies of history as they used
to be called, in which the whole of mankind's historic life was sur-
veyed and the stages, of development categorically indexed, do not
really belong to this debate. They were derived by their authors
from other sources than the patient and devoted contemplation of
the past, sources which promised certainty. 81. Augustine was in-
spired by the revelations and the prophecies of Holy Writ. In the
eighteenth century the French philosophers deified Reason, but
in their visions the past was fashioned so as to appear the predes-
tined preparation of their earthly "heavenly city." 5 Hegel was in
a way no more than a secularized St. Augustine. His conception of
history, too, is of a purposeful development, its motive force, in-
stead of the God of the Christians, being the Absolute, realizing
itself. Hegel's influence was profound, and he taught generations
of historians-especially, but by no means solely, in Germany-to
present historical events as the inevitable and predetermined work-
ing out of ideas or currents governing the epochs. And then, in the
nineteenth century, this conception of history, which had at first,
in spite of its rationalist appearance, thrived on the support of the
spirit of romanticism, entered into a very different, but perhaps
even more powerful, alliance with science.
This was largely the doing of Comte. I shall here insert a few
comments from Use and Abuse of History: 6
Comte, the father of positivism, had his own system of historical
development, in so many stages, a system founded more exclusively
Scientism in the Writing of History 149
than that of Hegel on science. The scientific method applied to history
-this is his great contribution. "History," he wrote, with the confi-
dence characteristic of so many philosophers, "has now been for the
first time systematically considered as a whole and has been found,
like other phenomena, subject to invariable laws."
The great task before the historian, he thought, must henceforth
be to discover those laws. Given the ever-increasing prestige of science
as the nineteenth century saw it advance from one great victory to
another, historians must be tempted to tackle the job. To talk the
language of science, to pride themselves on having applied its methods,
became a habit with historians. The concepts of Darwin, for instance,
intended for biology, were eagerly annexed for history. Marxism sailed
merrily along on this same current. A pure positivist of Comte's
school, Buckle, wrote the ambitious History of Civilization in Eng-
land) which purported to show the laws by which the progress of
civilization toward ever more complete enlightenment is governed.
Buckle is now forgotten, but there was Taine, one of the most brilliant
minds among historical writers in the second half of the century. In
Taine's system, the influence of Comte predominates although fused
with that of Hegel.
He solemnly declared history to be dominated by the three factors
of race, surroundings, and moment, a formula which has a fine scien-
tific ring about it, but which can be handled in almost any case with
the most widely different results. In successive prefaces he asserted
that man is an animal of a superior kind which produces philosophies
more or less as silkworms make cocoons; that vice and virtue are
products in the same way that vitriol or sugar are; that he regarded
his subject, the transformation of French civilization in the course
of the eighteenth century, with the eyes of a natural scientist observing
the metamorphosis of an insect; while he presented his volume on the
Reign of Terror as a treatise on "moral zoology." Renaissance, classi-
cism, Alexandrine or Christian epoch-"there is here, as everywhere,
nothing but a problem of mechanics." "What matters is," he wrote
in a private letter twenty years after that statement, "a scientific
opinion. My impressions don't count. What I want is to collaborate
in a system of research which will in fifty years' time permit honest
men to have something better than sentimental or egoistic impressions
about the public affairs of their own day."
The fifty years have long passed (the letter was written in 1885),
but although the mass of well-established facts relating to innumerable
150 Scientism and Values
aspects of the past has constantly grown, and although the severest
methods of sifting and testing, comparing and combining have been
and are still being applied-although, in short, we historians have
done and are still doing our best-few of us will nowadays maintain
that the day is near when sentiment or egoism can be eliminated from
the interpretation or presentation of the past.
The provocative crudity with which Taine expressed himself in
these prefaces, and the glaring contradiction presented by the highly
sensitive and personal quality, even violent partisanship, of the books
they introduced to the public alienated many of his contemporaries.
There was particularly Sainte-Beuve, who in the heyday of philosophic
or systematized or symbolic history was in the habit of making com-
ments of astringent and wholesome skepticism, to the effect that the
individuality of the actor and the uniqueness of the event in history
should not be forgotten, that the observer should humbly remember
his human quality and not pretend to be in control of the fortuitous
and the unforeseeable.
Today, at any rate, most of us know that it is not so simple. Large
regions of history have no doubt proved suitable for methods of re-
search which may be called scientific. The collaboration of historical
scholars can yield valuable results. Yet, notwithstanding, or rather by
very reason of, our half-century more of experience, we know that
history will not so readily give up her secret at the bidding of the
magic word "science." We have grown somewhat wary of this scientific
terminology applied to history. The view of history as an organic
development has proved extraordinarily fertile; it is still helpful, but
it should not be thought that the word "organism" in its biological
sense can represent a historical reality. It is no more than a metaphor;
it is a token used for a working method. In Taine's own day, how-
ever, the spirit animating professions of faith such as the ones quoted
exercised an influence not often leading to unconditional acceptance,
but so extensive as, to set a mark on the period, and this for the whole
of the Western world. And, as a matter of fact, that spirit has by no
means been cast out, nor has the mark been effaced.
"The spirit has not been cast out." It reigns supreme in the
Communist world. At the International Historical Congress, held
in Rome in 1955, there appeared a number of Russian historians,
and several of them read papers. Their leader, Sidorov, was proud
Scientism in the Writing of History 151
to affirm that "the materialistic conception of history has. tri-
umphed completely in our country and has the unanimous adher-
ence of historians both of the younger and of the older· genera-
tion." 7 I shall not enter into the question how unanimity has been
achieved in a field that, in my opinion, ought to be dedicated to
discussion. But what, in fact, we saw before us in ROIlle was an
array of well-drilled historians all speaking of "we Soviet histori-
ans," "the school to which I belong, of historical materialism," and
going on to treat us to an extraordinary display of "certainty."
"The materialistic tradition has completely realized its possibili-
ties in Marxism," Sidorov told us, "and it enabled Lenin to offer
new explanations of all great events in Russian history and in
modern world history." No lessI And this new history is "scien-
tific." "By adopting the materialistic conception of history," so
Madame Pankratova tells us, "and only thus, can the laws of his-
torical development be rightly understood and can we learn to
apply them towards the solution of contemporary problems." Sim-
ilarly Nikonov: "History has become .a systematized science"; and
he goes on to tell us how, by the light of "modern, progressive
historical science," 8 Soviet historiography has succeeded in un-
ravelling the mystery, by which bourgeois, or reactionary, histori-
ans still allow themselves to be baffled, of the causation of wars.
Nikonov then proceeds to explain to us the origins of World
War II. The critical reader will soon be struck by the incredible
bias of the account here presented, and he will notice that the real
intention of the essay is to excuse the Russian rulers' action in con-
cluding the pact with Hitler in August, 1939, and to lay the guilt
for the outbreak of the war on the shoulders of the "reactionary"
politicians of the West. The pretentious introduction and the
talk about science and the laws of history are the merest make-
believe. I have no doubt, however, but that the writer himself took
this verbiage quite seriously. It helped him to convince himself of
the impeccable accuracy of his garbled presentation of the episode.
The magic word Hscience" made him feel virtuous; it confirmed
him in his "certainty."
This is why scientism is practised so frequently, and this is why
it is so dangerous.
152 Scientism and Values
It is practised, and it has always been practised, by conservatives
as well as by progressives. To deduce from our "fallible under-
standing of a largely imaginary past or a wholly imaginary future"
... "some fixed pattern" in reality dictated by "absolute categories
and ideals," is (I am paraphrasing Isaiah Berlin in his recent
inaugural oration) "an attitude found in equal measure on the
right and left wings in our days." 9 Comte's immediate progeny
consisted largely of left-wingers, but I mentioned Taine, who, in
the name of science, denounced the French Revolution. And I
have before this called attention to the .absolutist attitude of mind
as well as to the deceptive appeal to science in writers like Sorokin
and Toynbee, neither of whom can be regarded as left-wingers.
The system in which Sorokin ranges the civilizations rests on the
distinction between ideational and sensate characteristics. In order
to carry through and support that distinction, he shows tables for
which, as I wrote in my essay "Prophets of Doom," 10
the numbers of casualties in wars over twenty-five centuries have been
estimated and compared; and so have the' numbers of books or of
paintings showing a prevalent percentage either of sensate or of idea-
tional characteristics in any given period.
I must say that these immensely elaborate tables strike me as en-
tirely unconvincing. To me it· seems an illusion to think that so com-
plicated, so many-sided, so protean and elusive a thing as a civilization
can be reduced to the bare and simple language of rows and figures.
The idea that by such a device the subjective factor in the final judg-
ment can be eliminated is the worst illusion of all. The criteria by
which the classifications are to be made cannot really reduce the hum-
blest assistant to a machine (for much work is often left to assistants
as if it were something mechanical or impersonal). When it comes to
comparative statistics ranging over the whole history of the human
race, does not Sorokin forget how scanty are the data for some periods,
how unmanageably abundant for others? Is it possible, in using the
statistical method, to guard against the difficulty presented by the
fact that what survives from the remote past are mostly the thoughts
and works of art of an elite, while in our view of our own age the
activities and idiosyncrasies of the multitude take an infinitely larger,
Scientism in the Writing of History 153
but perhaps a disproportionate, place? A balance has to be struck
between these and many other aspects of history, that is to say, between
the records of human activities in so many countries and in many
ages, that are so scrappy, or again so full, so dissimilar, and mutually
impossible to equate. The question imposes itself: Can anybody, in
attempting this, claim that he is guided by the sure methods of sci-
ence? Can he embrace with his mind the whole of that immense chaos
and derive from it a conclusion which would be evident to every other
human intellect, as would a proposition in Euclid?
I doubt it, or rather-I deny it.
Statistics are not often used by historians, as is done by Profes-
sor Sorokin, to support large theories about the world's future (a
very dark one, in his view). But statistics are much in vogue with
writers of social history nowadays, who believe that with their aid
they can get away from the controversial problems raised by ideo-
logical differences and achieve objectivity. Now I am not arguing
against statistics, nor am I, in a more general sense, contending
that the methods of science can never be of any use in the study
of man. What I am tilting at is the undue application of such
methods, which is what I ,understand is meant by scientism. Sta-
tistics can be useful to the historian. To think, however, that by
their me.ans one can avoid ideological issues and make a short cut
to objectivity seems to me a dangerous illusion. History can in
that way only be devitalized. The historian should be very careful
not to be imposed upon by the scientific appearance of an array of
figures and of elaborate calculations based upon them, as if the
re.ality of the past must now let itself be captured without fail. A
striking instance· of the deceptiveness of statistics in history was
discussed by Professor Hexter in an essay on the great Tawney-
Trevor Roper controversy about the gentry which appeared in last
year's Encounter.
Toynbee, in his Study of History) does not deal in statistics so
much, but occasionally he prints, to illustrate his argument, tables
which are similarly intended to set upon it the mark of scientific
precision and order. "It looks beautifully 'simple,' " was my com-
ment on one such table in Volume IX.ll "I shall say no more than
154 Scientism and Values
that I have rarely seen a more arbitrary juggling with the facts of
history."
Toynbee, the prophet of a world one in the love of God, pro-
vides a· classic example of systematic scientism. This is what I had
said about him a few years earlier: 12
The worst of Toynbee's great attempt is that he has, presented it
under the patronage of a scientific terminology. A patently aprioris-
tically-conceived, Augustinian-Spenglerian scheme of the history of
mankind he wants to pass off as the product of the empirical method,
built up out of what he calls facts, without troubling to analyze their
precise nature or test their reliability for the purposes of system con-
struction. When, in a radio debate with him in January, 1948, I
remarked upon the bewildering multiplicity as well as, baffling in-
tangibility of historical data, he asked: "Is history really too hard a
nut for science to crack?" and added: "The human intellect, sighs
Geyl, 'is not sufficiently comprehensive.' " Of course I had not sighed;
why should I sigh about what I regard as one of the fundamental
truths of life? But Toynbee's rejoinder was: "We can't afford such
defeatism; it is unworthy of the greatness of man's mind." In short,
he belongs to those who obstinately blind themselves to the limitations
of our comprehension of history.
In all my various essays devoted to A Study of History I have
attempted to show the insufficiency, or the complete irrelevance,
of Toynbee's pretended scientific arguments, formulations, and
conclusions. Here, for instance, is a passage in which I derided his
portentous use of the word "laws." In arguing that civilizations
thrjve on challenges, he admits that sometimes challenges are so
severe as to be deadly. The growth of civilization, therefore, is best
served by the "Golden Mean." Or, "in scientific terminology,"
what is needed is "a mean between a deficiency of severity and an
excess of it." Now follows my comm.ent: 13
So here we have a "law," scientifically established, or at least scien-
tifically formulated. But what next? When we try to apply it, we shall
first of all discover that in every given historical situation it refers to
only one element, out of many, one which, when we are concerned
Scientism in the Writing of History 155
with historical presentation, cannot be abstracted from the others.
Moreover, is. it not essential to define what is too mllch and what too
little, to stipulate where the golden mean lies? As to that, the "law"
has nothing to say. That has to be defined anew each time by obser-
vation.
But indeed, these "laws" of Toynbee's, which in some cases he has
had to formulate in so distressingly vague a manner, rest on very inse-
cure foundations. They are, if we will take the author's word for it,
the result of an investigation carefully proceeding from fact to fact.
But what are facts in history?
I contend (so I wrote some years ago) 14 that his conception of what
a historical fact really is, of what a historical fact is worth, of what
can be done with it, is open to very grave objections.
Toynbee, with his immense learning, has a multitude of historical
illustrations at his fingers' ends at every turn of his argument, and he
discourses with never-failing brilliance and never-failing confidence on
careers, and personalities of statesmen or thinkers, on tendencies,
movements of thought, social conditions, wars, customs of all coun-
tries and of all ages. Now the critical reader will feel that each single
one of his cases might give rise to discussion. Each could be represented
in a slightly or markedly different way so as no longer to substantiate
his argument. They are not facts; they are subjective presentations of
facts; they are combinations or interpretations of facts. As the founda-
tions of an imposing superstructure of theory, they prove extraordi-
narily shifting and shaky, and this in spite of the dexterity and assur-
ance with which Toynbee handles them.
Now let me say explicitly that I am far from wanting to confine
history within the narrow bounds of the factual account. In
another essay I wrote: 15
I don't mean that the historian (as he is sometimes advised)
should "stick to the facts": The facts are there to be used. Com-
binations, presentations, theories, are indispensable if we want to
understand. But the historian should proceed cautiously in using
the facts for these purposes. It goes without saying that he should
try to ascertain the facts as exactly as possible; but the important
thing is that he should remain conscious, even then, of the ele-
ment of arbitrariness, of subjectivity, that necessarily enters into
all combinations of facts, if only because one has. to begin. by se-
156 Scientism and Values
lecting them; while next, one has to order them according to an
idea which must, in part at least, be conceived in one's own mind.
The restrictions, the self-restraint, here indicated, are irksome
to those who want to attain certainty or manage to persuade them-
selves that they have attained it. To me this acknowledgment of
limitations seems imposed upon us by the nature of life itself. And
let me add that I try to avoid being dogmatic here as well. I know
that there will always remain a residuum of uncertainty. There
will always remain matter for discussion. But at the same time,
"this discussion does lead to a gradual, even though forever par-
tial, conquest of reality." 16 When, in the exchange of thought at
Sea Island, Professor Vivas suggested that in the sciences of man
you cannot distinguish b e t w e ~ n the true and the pseudo as you
can in physical science, I was not prepared to follow him.
I do not, of course (so, more or less, ran my reply), dispute that
history does not yield absolute and unquestionable results. There
are, and there will always be, contending schools, not one of which
can claim to represent history to the exclusion of the others,. But
they can, all of them, be united by a respect for the true method.
And by the true method I simply mean what was described by
Professor Werkmeister as "the scholarly punctiliousness in dealing
with facts, the desire to provide rational explanations on sound,
logical, or
f
simply, honest, argumentation." In contradistinction
to this, history, that is, a view or an interpretation of the past, can
be so dominated by fanaticism, by an emotion, by the craving for
a system, by the desire to make it a preface to the future, or rather
to the picture of the future of which the historian's mind is full,
by detestation, also, of the world and of the direction in which it
seems to be moving-that all these safeguards of the true method
are thrown to the winds. The past, of course, cannot protest. The
unscrupulous historian can fashion it after his fancy. And the
myths which are created in this way can have practical effects of
the most disturbing or pernicious nature. But the application of
unsound methods can be detected, and I regard it as one of the
historical scholar's obligations towards the community that he
should do what he can to expose such "abuse of history."
I have, in my time, waged a good many fights against what I
Scientism in the Writing of History 157
considered to be pseudo history. I was moved, I hope, by a genuine
regard for true history, but also, undoubtedly (and I do not think
that I have any cause to apologize), by a wish to counter the evil
influences which I observed that the false presentations of history
were having in the present, by detestation of the particular preju-
dices or passions which I detected behind them. First, I attacked
the misconception of Netherlands history by which it was intended
to erect a barrier between the Dutch and the Flemings.17 Then it
was national-socialist historiography that drew my fire.
IS
Since the
last war it has been particularly the gloomy prognostications about
Western civilization and the blithe universalist visions, the tend-
ency of which I regard as no less perniciously defeatist. In all these
cases I discerned that the effect was obtained by distortions, omis-
sions, fantasies, which did not stand the test of criticism in accord-
ance with the true historical method. Scientism, not always, but
frequently, supplied some of the defective links which were needed
to make the argument hang together on paper.
History is one of the great conserving forces of our civilization;
and it also provides guidance, indispensable if never categoric, in
our laborious and adventurous progress towards the unknown fu-
ture. But in order to fulfill its function, history should stick to its
own laws.
NOTES
1. "De Vitaliteit van de Westerse Beschaving" (1958), English translation,
"The Vitality of Western Civilization," Delta (Amsterdam: 1959, quar-
terly). The essay will be included in a volume entitled Excursions and
Encounters in History to be published by Meridian Books, New York,
in 1960.
2. Pieter Geyl, Use and Abuse of History (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1955).
3. See From Ranke to Toynbee, Smith College Historical Series (1952); or
Debates with Historians (1955), (paperback edition, 1 9 ~ 8 ) .
4. Pieter Geyl, Napoleon For and Against (Cape, London, and Yale Uni-
versity Press, 1949), p. 16.
5. See Carl Becker, The Heavenly City of the Eighteenth Century Philoso-
phers (1932).
6. Loc. cit., pp. 45-49.
7. Relazioni (of the Historical Congress at Rome), VI, 391. English version
in Editions de ['Academie des Sciences de l'URSS (1955), p. 209.

158 Scientism and Values
8. See Editions de l'Academie des Sciences de l'URSS (1955), p. 53.
9. Isaiah Berlin, Two Concepts of Liberty (Oxford, 1958),p. 56.
10. Pieter Geyl, "Prophets of Doom," Virginia Quarterly (1950); see Debates
with Historians, p. 134.
11. Pieter Geyl, "Toynbee the Prophet," Journal of the History of Ideas
(New York, 1955); see Debates with Historians, p. 175.
12. Pieter Gey1, Use and Abuse of History (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1955).
13. Pieter Gey1, "Toynbee's Systeem der Beschavingen," Verslag van het
historisch Genootschap (1950); English version in Journal of the History
of Ideas (1949); see Debates with Historians,· pp. 101-102.
14. Pieter Geyl, "Prophets of Doom"; see Debates with Historians, p. 140.
15. Ibid. .
16. Pieter Geyl, Use and Abuse of History (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1955).
17. See the "National State and the Writers of Netherland History," Debates
with Historians, pp. 179-197.
18. See, for instance, essays on German works edited respectively by H.
K10sz and R. P. Oszwald, also on Steding and on Rauschning, published
in various Dutch reviews 1938, 1939, and before May, 1940, and repub-
lished in Historicus in de Tijd (1954).
8
The Mantle of Scien'ce
MURRAY N. ROTHBARD
In our proper condemnation of scientism in the study of man,
we should not make the mistake of dismissing science as well. For
if we do so, we credit scientism too highly and accept at face value
its claim. to be the one and only scientific method. If scientism is,
as we believe it to be, an improper method, then it cannot be truly
scientific. Science, after all, means s c i e n t i a ~ correct knowledge; it
is older and wiser than the positivist-pragmatist attempt to monop-
olize the term.
Scientism is the profoundly unscientific attempt to transfer
uncritically the methodology of the physical sciences to the study
of human action. Both fields of inquiry must, it is true, be studied
by the use of reason-the mind's identification of reality. But then
it becomes crucially important, in reason, not to neglect the criti-
cal attribute of human action: that, alone in nature, human beings
possess a rational consciousness. Stones, molecules, planets cannot
choose their courses; their behavior is strictly and mechanically
determined for them. Only human beings possess free will and
consciousness: for they are conscious, and they can, and indeed
must, choose their course of action.
1
To ignore this primordial fact
about the nature of man-to ignore his volition, his free will-is
to misconstrue the facts of reality and therefore to be profoundly
and radically unscientific.
Man's necessity to choose means that, at any given time, he is
159
160 Scientism and Values
acting to bring about some end in the immediate or distant future,
i.e., that he has purposes. The steps that he takes to achieve his
ends are his means. Man is born with no innate knowledge of what
ends to choose or how to use which means to attain them. Having
no inborn knowledge of how to survive and prosper, he must learn
what ends and means to adopt, and he is liable to make errors
along the way. But only his reasoning mind can show him his
goals and how to attain them.
We have already begun to build the first blocks of the many-
storied edifice of the true sciences of man-and they are all
grounded on the fact of man's volition.
2
On the formal fact that
man uses means to attain ends we ground the science of praxeol-
ogy) or economics; psychology is the study of how and why man
chooses the contents of his ends; technology tells what concrete
means will lead to various ends; and ethics employs all the data of
the various sciences to guide man toward the ends he should seek
to attain, and therefore, by imputation, toward his proper means.
None of these disciplines can make any sense whatever on scien-
tistic premises. If men are like stones, if they are not purposive
beings and do not strive for ends, then there is no economics, no
psychology, no ethics, no technology, no science of man whatever.
1. The Problem of Free Will
Before proceeding further, we must pause to consider the
validity of free will, for it is curious that the determinist dogma
has so often been accepted as the uniquely scientific position. And
while many philosophers have demonstrated the existence of free
will, the concept has all too rarely been applied to the "social
sciences."
In the first place, each human being knows universally from
introspection that he chooses. The positivists and behaviorists may
scoff at introspection all they wish, but it remains true that the
introspective knowledge of a conscious man that he is conscious
and acts is a fact of reality. What, indeed, do the determinists have
to offer to set against introspectivl= fact? Only a poor and mislead-
ing analogy from the physical sciences. It is true that all mindless
The'Mantle of Science 161
matter is determined and purposeless. But it is highly inappro-
priate, and moreover question-begging, simply and uncritically to
apply the model of physics to man.
Why, indeed, should we accept determinism in nature? The
reason we say that things are· determined is that every existing
thing must have a specific existence. Having a specific existence,
it must have certain definite, definable, delimitable attributes, i.e.,
every thing must have a specific nature. Every being, then, can act
or behave only in accordance with its nature, and any two beings
can interact only in accord with their respective natures. There-
fore, the actions of every being are caused by, determined by, its
nature.
3
But while most things have no consciousness and therefore pur-
sue no goals, it is an essential attribute of man's nature that he has
consciousness, and therefore that his actions are self-determined by
the choices his mind makes.
At very best, the application of determinism to man is just an
agenda for the future. After several centuries of arrogant procla-
mations, no determinist has come up with anything like a theory
determining all of men's actions. Surely the burden of proof must
rest on the one advancing a theory, particularly when the theory
contradicts man's primary impressions. Surely we can, at the very
least, tell the determinists to keep quiet until they can offer their
determinations-including, of course, their advance determina-
tions of each of our reactions to their determining theory. But
there is far more that can be said. For determinism, as applied to
man, is a self-contradictory thesis, since the man who employs it
relies implicitly on the existence of free will. If we are determined
in the ideas we accept, then X, the determinist, is determined to
believe in determinism, while Y, the believer in free will, is also
determined to believe in his own doctrine. Since man's mind is,
according to determinism, not free to think and come to conclu-
sions about reality, it is absurd for X to try to convince Y or any-
one else of the truth of determinism. In short, the determinist
must rely, for the spread of his ideas, on the nondetermined, free-
will choices of others, on their free will to adopt or reject ideas.
4
In the same way, the various brands of determinists-behaviorists,
162 Scientism and Values
positivists, Marxists, etc.-implicitly claim special exemption for
themselves from their own determined systems.
5
But if a man can-
not affirm a proposition without employing its negation, he is not
only caught in an inextricable self-contradiction; he is conceding
to the negation the status of an axiom.
6
A corollary self-contradiction: the determinists profess to be
able, some day, to determine what man's choices and actions will
be. But, on their own grounds, their own knowledge of this deter-
mining theory is itself determined. How then can they aspire to
know all) if the extent of their own knowledge is itself determined,
and therefore arbitrarily delimited? In fact, if our ideas are deter-
mined, then we have no way of freely revising our judgments and
of learning truth-whether the truth of determinism or of any-
thing else.
7
Thus, the determinist, to advocate his doctrine, must place
himself and his theory outside the allegedly universally determined
realm, i.e., he must employ free will. This reliance of determinism
on its negation is an instance of a wider truth: that it is self-
contradictory to use reason in any attempt to deny the validity of
reason as a means of attaining knowledge. Such self-contradiction
is implicit in such currently fashionable sentiments as· "reason
shows us that reason is weak," or "the more we know, the more
we know how little we know." 8
Some may object that man is not really free because he must
obey natural laws. To say that man is not free because he is not
able to do anything he may possibly desire, however, confuses free-
dom and power.
9
It is clearly absurd to employ as a definition of
"freedom" the power of an entity to perform an impossible action,
to violate its nature.
10
Determinists often imply that a man's ideas ,are necessarily de-
termined by the ideas of others, of "society." Yet A and B can
hear the same idea propounded; A can adopt it as valid while B
will not. Each man, therefore, has the free choice of adopting or
not adopting an idea or value. It is true that many men may un-
critically adopt the ideas of others; yet this process cannot regress
infinitely. At some point in time, the idea originated, i.e., the idea
was not taken from others, but was arrived at by some mind inde-
The Mantle of Science 163
pendently and creatively. This is logically necessary for any given
idea. "Society," therefore, cannot dictate ideas. If someone grows
up in a world where people generally believe that "all redheads are
demons," he is free, as he grows up, to rethink the problem and
arrive at a different conclusion. If this were not true, ideas, once
adopted, could never have been changed.
We conclude, therefore, that true science decrees detenninism
for physical nature and free will for man, and for the sam.e reason:
that every thing must act in accordance with its specific nature.
And since men are free to adopt ideas and to act upon them, it is
never events or stimuli external to the mind that cause its ideas;
rather the mind freely adopts ideas about external events. A sav-
age, an infant, and a civilized man will each react in entirely dif-
ferent ways to the sight of the same stimulus-be it a fountain pen,
an alarm clock, or a machine gun, for each mind has different ideas
about the object's meaning and qualities.
l1
Let us therefore never
again say that the Great Depression of the 1930's caused men to
adopt socialism or interventionism (or that poverty causes people
to adopt Communism). The depression existed, and men were
moved to think about this striking event; but that they adopted
socialism or its equivalent as the way out was not determined by
the event; they might just as well have chosen laissez faire or Bud-
dhism or any other attempted solution. The deciding factor was
the idea that people chose to adopt.
What led the people to adopt particular ideas? Here the his-
torian may enumerate and weigh various factors, but he must
always stop short at the ultimate freedom of the will. Thus, in any
given matter, a person may freely decide either to think about a
problem independently or to accept uncritically the ideas offered
by others. Certainly, the bulk of the people, especially in abstract
matters, choose to follow the ideas offered by· the intellectuals. At
the time of the Great Depression, there were a host of intellectuals
offering the nostrum of statism or socialism as a cure for the depres-
sion, while very few suggested laissez faire or absolute monarchy.
The realization that ideas, freely adopted, determine social in-
stitutions, and not vice versa, illuminates many critical areas of the
study of man. Rousseau and his host of modern followers, who
164 Scientism and Values
hold that man is good, but corrupted by his institutions, must
finally wither under the query: And who but men created these
institutions? The tendency of many modern intellectuals to wor-
ship the primitive (also the childlike-especially the child "pro-
gressively" educated-the "natural" life of the noble savage of the
South Seas, etc.) has perhaps the same roots. We are also told re-
peatedly that differences between largely isolated tribes and ethnic
groups are "culturally determined": tribe X being intelligent or
peaceful because of its X-culture; tribe Y, dull or warlike because
of V-culture. If we fully realize that the men of each tribe created
its own culture (unless we are to assume its creation by some mys-
tic deus ex machina), we see that this popular "explanation" is no
better than explaining the sleep-inducing properties of opium by
its "dormitive power." Indeed, it is worse, because it adds the
error of social determinism.
It will undoubtedly be charged that this discussion of free will
and determinism is "one-sided" and that it leaves out the alleged
fact that all of life is multicausal and interdependent. We must
not forget, however, that the very goal of science is simpler expla-
nations of wider phenomena. In this case, we are confronted with
the fact that there can logically be only one ultimate sovereign
over a man's actions: either his own free will or some cause out-
side that will. There is no other alternative, there is no middle
ground, and therefore the fashionable eclecticism of modern schol-
arship must in this case yield to the hard realities of the Law of
the Excluded Middle.
If free will has been vindicated, how can we prove the existence
of consciousness itself? The answer is simple: to prove means to
make evident something not yet evident. Yet some propositions
may be already evident to the self, i.e., self-evident. A self-evident
axiom, as we have indicated, will be a proposition which cannot
be contradicted without employing the axiom itself in the attempt.
And the existence of consciousness is not only evident to all of us
through direct introspection, but is .also a fundamental axiom, for
the very act of doubting consciousness must itself be performed by
a consciousness.
12
Thus, the behaviorist who spurns consciousness
The Mantle of Science 165
for "objective" laboratory data must rely on the consciousness of
his laboratory associates to report the data to him.
The key to scientism is its denial of the existence of individual
consciousness and will.
I3
This takes two main forms: applying me-
chanical analogies from the physical sciences. to individual men,
and applying organismic analogies to such hctional collective
wholes as "society." The latter course attributes consciousness and
will, not to individuals, but to some collective organic whole of
which the individual is merely a determined cell. Both methods
are aspects of the rejection of individual consciousness.
2. The False Mechanical Analogies of Scientism
The scientistic method in the study of man is almost wholly
one of building on analogies from the physical sciences. Some of
the common mechanistic analogies follow.
Man as Servomechanism: Just as Bertrand Russell, one of the
leaders of scientism, reverses reality by attributing determinism to
men, and free will to physical particles, so it has recently become
the fashion to say that modern machines "think," while man is
merely a complex form of machine, or "servomechanism." 14 What
is overlooked here is that machines, no matter how complex, are
simply devices made by man to serve man's purposes and goals;
their actions are preset by their creators, and the machines can
never act in any other way or suddenly adopt new goals and act
upon them. They cannot do so, finally, because the machines are
not alive and are therefore certainly not conscious. If men are
machines, on the other hand, then the determinists, in addi.tion to
meeting the above critique, must answer the question: Who cre-
ated men and for what purpose?-a rather embarrassing question
for materialists to answer.15
Social Engineering: This term implies that men are no different
from stones or other physical objects, and therefore that they
should be blueprinted and reshaped in the same way as objects by
"social" engineers. When Rex Tugwell wrote in his famous poem
during the flush days of the New Deal:
166 Scientism and Values
I have gathered my tools and my charts,
My plans are finished and practical.
1 shall roll up my sleeves-make America over,
one wonders whether his admiring readers thought themselves to
be among the directing engineers or among the raw material that
would be "made over." 16
Model-Building: Economics, and recently political science, have
been beset by a plague of "model-building." 17 People do not con-
struct theories .any more; they "build" models of the society or
economy. Yet no one seems to notice the peculiar inaptness of the
concept. An engineering model is an exact replica, in miniature,
i.e., in exact quantitative proportion, of the relationships existing
in the given structure in the real world; but the "models" of eco-
nomic and political theory are simply a few equations and con-
cepts which, at very best, could only approximate a few of the
numerous relations in the economy or society.
Measurement: The Econometric Society's original motto was
"Science is measurement," this ideal having been transferred intact
from the natural sciences. The frantic and vain attempts to meas-
ure intensive psychic magnitudes in psychology and in economics
would disappear if it were realized that the very concept of
measurement implies the necessity for an objective extensive unit
to serve as a measure. But the magnitudes in consciousness are
necessarily intensive and therefore not capable of measurement. IS
The Mathematical Method: Not only measurement, but the use
of mathematics in general, in the social sciences and philosophy
today is an illegitimate transfer from physics. In the first place, a
mathematical equation implies the existence of quantities that can
be equated, which in turn implies a unit of measurement for these
quantities. Secondly, mathematical relations are functional; i.e.,
variables are interdependent, and identifying the causal variable
depends on which is held as given and which is, changed. This
methodology is appropriate in physics, where entities do not them-
selves provide the causes for their actions, but instead are deter-
mined by discoverable quantitative laws of their nature and the
nature of the interacting entities. But in human action, the free-
The Mantle of Science 167
will choice of the human consciousness is the caus.e, and this cause
generates certain effects. The mathematical concept of interdeter-
mining "function" is therefore inappropriate.
Indeed, the very concept of "variable" used so frequently in
econometrics is illegitimate, for physics is able to arrive at laws
only by discovering constants. The concept of "variable" only
makes sense if there are some things that are not variable, but
constant. Yet in human action, free will precludes any quantitative
constants (including constant units of measurement). All attempts
to discover such constants (such as the strict quantity theory of
money or the Keynesian "consumption function") were inherently
doomed to failure.
Finally, such staples of mathematical economics as the calculus
are completely inappropriate for human action because they as-
sume infinitely small continuity; while such concepts may legiti-
mately describe the completely determined path of a physical
particle, they are seriously misleading in describing the willed
action of a human being. Such willed action can occur only in
discrete, non-infinitely-small steps, steps large enough to be per-
ceivable by a human consciousness. Hence the continuity assump-
tions of calculus are inappropriate for the study of man.
Other metaphors bodily and transplanted from
physics include: "equilibrium," "elasticity," "statics and dy-
namics," "velocity of <;:irculation," and "friction." "Equilibrium"
in physics is a state in which an entity remains; but in economics
or politics there is never really such an equilibrium state existing;
there is but a tendency in that direction. Moreover, the term
"equilibrium" has emotional connotations, and so it was only a
brief step to the further mischief of holding up equilibrium. as
not only possible, but as the ideal by which to gauge all existing
institutions. But since man, by his very nature, must keep acting,
he cannot be in equilibrium while he lives, and therefore the
ideal, being impossible, is also inappropriate.
The concept of "friction" is used in a similar way. Some econo-
mists, for example, have assumed that men have "perfect knowl-
edge," that the factors of production have "perfect mobility," etc.,
and then have airily dismissed all difficulties in applying these ab-
168 Scientism and Values
surdities to the real world as simple problems of "friction," just as
the physical sciences bring in friction to add to their "perfect"
framework. These assumptions in fact make omniscience the
standard or ideal, and this cannot exist by the nature of man.
3. The False Organismic Analogies of Scientism
The organismic analogies attribute consciousness, or other
organic qualities, to "social wholes" which are really only labels
for the interrelations of individuals.
19
Just as in the mechanistic
metaphors, individual men are subsumed and determined, here
they become mindless cells in some sort of social organism. While
few people today would assert flatly that "society is an organism,"
most social theorists hold doctrines that imply this. Note, for
example, such phrases as: "Society determines the values of its
individual members"; or "The culture determines the actions of
individual members"; or "The individual's actions are deter-
mined by the "role he plays in the group to which he belongs,"
etc. Such concepts as "the public good," "the common good," "so-
cial welfare," etc., are also endemic. All these concepts rest on the
implicit premise that there exists, somewhere, a living organic
entity known as "society," "the group," "the public," "the com-
munity," and that that entity has values and pursues ends.
Not only are these terms held up as living entities; they are
supposed to exist more fundamentally than mere individuals, and
certainly "their" goals take precedence over individual ones. It is
ironic that the self-proclaimed apostles of "science" should
pursue the sheer mysticism of assuming the living reality of these
concepts.
20
Such concepts as "public good," "general welfare," etc.,
should, therefore, be discarded as grossly unscientific, and the
next time someone preaches the priority of "public good" over the
individual good, we must ask: Who is the "public" in this case?
We must remember that in the slogan justifying the public debt
that rose to fame in the 1930's: "We owe it only to ourselves," it
makes a big difference for every man whether he is a member of
the "we" or of the "ourselves." 21
The Mantle of Science 169
A similar fallacy is committed, alike by friends and by foes
of the market economy, when the market is called "impersonal."
Thus, people often complain that the market is too "impersonal"
because it does not grant to them a greater share of worldly goods.
It is overlooked that the "market" is not some sort of living entity
making good or bad decisions, but is simply a label for individual
persons and their voluntary interactions. If A thinks that the
"impersonal market" is not paying him enough, he is really saying
that individuals B, C, and D are not willing to pay him as much
as he would like to receive. The "market" is individuals acting.
Similarly, if B thinks that the "market" is not paying A enough,
B is perfectly free to step in and supply the difference. He is not
blocked in this effort by some monster named "market."
One example of the widespread use of the organismic fallacy is
in discussions of international trade. Thus, during the gold-stand-
ard era, how often did the cry go up that "England" or "France"
or some other country was in mortal danger because "it" was
"losing gold"? What was actually happening was that Englishmen
or Frenchmen were voluntarily shipping gold overseas and thus
threatening the banks in those countries with the necessity of
meeting obligations (to pay in gold) which they could not possibly
fulfill. But the use of the organismic metaphor converted a grave
problem of banking into a vague national crisis for which every
citizen was somehow responsible.
22
So far we have been discussing those organismic concepts which
assume the existence of a fictive consciousness in some collective
whole. There are also numerous examples of other misleading
biological analogies in the study of man. We hear much, for ex-
ample, of ' ~ y o u n g " and "old" nations, as if an American aged
twenty is somehow "younger" than a Frenchman of the same age.
We read of, "mature economies," as if an economy must grow
rapidly and then become "mature." The current fashion of an
"economics of growth" presumes that every economy is somehow
destined, like a living organism, to "grow" in some predetermined
manner at a definite rate. (In the enthusiasm it is overlooked that
too many economies "grow" backward.) That all of these analogies
170 Scientism and. Values
are attempts to negate individual will and consciousness, has been
pointed out by Mrs. Penrose. Referring to biological .analogies as
applied to business firms, she writes:
... where explicit biological analogies crop up in economics they
are drawn exclusively from that aspect of biology which deals with the
nonmotivated behavior of organisms ... So it is with the life-cycle
analogy. We have no reason whatever for thinking that the growth
pattern of a biological organism is willed by the organism itself. On
the other hand, we have every reason for thinking that the growth of a
firm is willed by those who make the decisions of the firm ... and the
proof of this lies in the fact that no one can describe the development
of any given firm ... except in terms of decisions taken by individual
men..
23
4. Axioms and Deduction
The fundamental axiom, then, for the study of man is the
existence of individual consciousness, and we have seen the nu-
merous ways in which scientism tries to reject or avoid this axiom.
Not being omniscient, a man must learn; he must ever adopt ideas
and act upon them, choosing ends and the means to attain these
ends. Upon this simple fundamental axiom a vast deductive edifice
can be constructed. Professor von Mises has already done this for
economics, which he has subsumed under the science of praxe-
ology: this centers on the universal formal fact that all men use
means for chosen ends, without investigating the processes of the
concrete choices or the justification for them. Mise'S has shown
that the entire structure of economic thought can be deduced
from this axiom (with the help of a very few subsidiary axioms.)24
Since the fundamental and other axioms are qualitative by
nature, it follows that the propositions deduced by the laws of
logic from these axioms are also qualitative. The laws of human
action are therefore qualitative, and in fact, it should be clear
that free will precludes quantitative laws. Thus, we m,ay set· forth
the absolute economic law that an increas,e in the supply of a good,
given the demand, will lower its price; but if we attempted to
prescribe with similar generality how much the price would fall,
The Mantle of Science 171
given a definite increase in supply, we would shatter against the
free-will rock of varying valuations by different individuals.
It goes without saying that the axiomatic-deductive method has
been in disTepute in recent decades, in all disciplines but mathe-
matics and formal logic-and even here the axioms are often
supposed to be a mere convention rather than necessary truth. Few
discussions of the history of philosophy or scientific method fail to
make the ritual attacks on old-fashioned argumentation from self-
evident principles. And yet the disciples of scientism themselves
implicitly assume as self-evident not what cannot be contradicted,
but simply that the methodology of physics is the only truly scien-
tific methodology. This methodology, briefly, is to look at facts,
then frame ever more general hypotheses to account for the facts,
and then to test these hypotheses by experimentally verifying other
deductions made from them. But this. method is appropriate only
in the physical sciences, where we begin by knowing external
sense data and then proceed to our ta,sk of trying to find, as closely
as we can, the causal laws of behavior of the entities. we perceive.
We have no way of knowing these laws directly; but fortunately
we may verify them by performing controlled laboratory experi-
ments to test propositions deduced from them. In these experi-
ments we can vary one factor, while keeping all other relevant
factors constant. Yet the process of accumulating knowledge in
physics is always rather tenuous; and, as has happened, as we be-
come more and more abstract, there is greater possibility that some
other explanation will be devised which fits more of the observed
facts and which may then replace the older theory.
In the study of" human action, on the other· hand, the proper
procedure is the reverse. Here we begin with the primary axioms;
we know that men are the causal agents, that the ideas they adopt
by free will govern their actions. We therefore begin by fully
knowing the abstract axioms, and we may then build upon them
by logical deduction, introducing a few subsidiary axioms to limit
the range of the study to the concrete applications we care about.
Furthermore, in human affairs, the existence of free will prevents
us ftom conduoting any controlled experiments; for people's ideas
and va] uations, are continually subject to change, and therefore
172 Scientism and Values
nothing can be held constant. The proper theoretical methodology
in human affairs, then, is the axiomatic-deductive method. The
laws deduced by this method are more) not less, firmly grounded
than the laws of physics; for since the ultimate causes are known
directly as true, their consequents are also true.
One of the reasons for the scientistic hatred of the axiomatic-
deductive method is historical. Thus, Dr. E. ·C. Harwood, in-
veterate battler for the pragmatic method in economics and the
social sciences, criticizes von Mises as follows:
Like the Greeks, Dr. Von Mises disparages change. "Praxeology is not
concerned with the changing content of acting, but with its pure form
and categorial structure." No one who appreciates the long struggle of
man toward more adequate knowing would criticize Aristotle for his
adoption of a similar viewpoint 2,000 years ago, but, after all, that
was 2,000 years ago; surely econoD;lists can do better than seek light
on their subject from a beacon that was extinguished by the Galilean
revolution in the 17th century.25
Apart from the usual pragmatist antagonism to the apodictic
laws of logic, this quotation embodies a typical historiographic
myth. The germ of truth in the historical picture of the noble
Galileo versus the antiscientific Church consists largely in two im-
portant errors of Aristotle: (a) he thought of physical entities as
acting teleologically, and thus in a sense as being causal agents;
and (b) he necessarily had no knowledge of the experimental
method, which had not yet been developed, and therefore thought
that the axiomatic-deductive-qualitative method was the only one
appropriate to the physical as well as, to the human sciences. When
the seventeenth century enthroned quantitative laws and labora-
tory methods, the partially justified repudiation of Aristotle in
physics was followed by the unfortunate expulsion of Aristotle
and his methodology from the human sciences as well.26 This is
true apart from historical findings that the Scholastics of the
Middle Ages were the forerunners, rather than the obscurantist
enemies, of experimental physical science.
27
One example of concrete law deduced from our fundamental
The Mantle of Science 173
axiom is as follows.: Since all action is determined by the choice of
the actor, any particular act demonstrates a person's preference
for this action. From this it follows that if A and B voluntarily
agree to make an exchange (whether the exchange be material
or spiritual), both parties are doing so because they expect to
benefit. 28
5. Science and Values: Arbitrary Ethics
Having discussed the properly scientific, as contrasted to the
scientistic, approach to the study of man, we may conclude by
briefly considering the age-old question of the relationship be-
tween science and values. Ever since Max Weber, the dominant
position in the social sciences, at least de jure) has been Wert-
freiheit: that science itself must not make value judgments, but
confine itself to judgments of fact, since ultimate ends c.an be only
sheer personal preference not subject to rational argument. The
classical philosophical view that a rational (i.e., in the broad sense
of the term, a "scientific") ethic is possible has been largely dis-
carded. As a result, the critics of Wertfreiheit) having dismissed
the possibility of rational ethics as a separate discipline, have taken
to smuggling in arbitrary, ad hoc ethical judgments through the
back door of each particular science of man. The current fashion
is to preserve a fa<;ade of Wertfreiheit) while casually adopting
value judgments, not as the scientist's own decision, but as the
consensus of the values of others. Instead of choosing his own
ends and valuing accordingly, the scientist supposedly maintains
his neutrality by adopting the values of the bulk of society. In
short, to set forth one's own values, is now considered biased and
"nonobjective," while to adopt uncritically the slogans of other
people is the height of "objectivity." Scientific objectivity no
longer means a man's pursuit of truth wherever it may lead, but
abiding by a Gallup poll of other, less informed subjectivities.
29
The attitude that value judgments are self-evidently correct
because "the people" hold them permeates social science. The
social scientist often claims that he is merely a technician, advising
his public-how to attain their ends, whatever they
174 Scientism and Values
may be. And he believes that he thereby can take a value position
without really committing himself to any values of his own. An
example from a recent public finance textbook (an area where the
economic scientist must constantly confront ethical problems):
The present-day justification for the ability principle (among econo-
mists) is simply the fact that ... it is in accord with consensus of
attitudes toward equity in the distribution of real income and of tax
burden. Equity questions always involve value judgments, and tax
structures can be evaluated, from an equity standpoint, only in terms
of their relative conformity with the consensus of thought in the
particular society with respect to equity.30
But the scientist cannot thereby escape making value judgments
of his own. A man who knowingly advises a criminal gang on the
best means of safe-cracking is thereby implicitly endorsing the
end: safe-cracking. He is an accessory before the fact. An economist
who advises the public on the most efficient method of obtaining
economic equality is endorsing the end of economic equality. The
economist who advises the Federal Reserve System how most
expeditiously to manage the economy is thereby endorsing the
existence of the system and its aim of stabilization. A political
scientist who advises a government bureau on how to reorganize
its staff for greater efficiency (or less inefficiency) is thereby en-
dorsing the existence and the success of that bureau. To be con-
vinced of this, consider what the proper course would be for an
economist who opposes the existence of the Federal Reserve Sys-
tem, or the political scientist who would like to see the liquidation
of the bureau. Wouldn't he be betraying his principles if he
helped what he is against to become more efficient? Wouldn't
his proper course either be to refuse to advise it, or perhaps to
try to promote its inefficiency-on the grounds of the classic
remark by a great American industrialist (speaking of govern-
ment corruption): "Thank God that we don't get as much gov-
erment as we pay for"?
It should be realized that values do not become true or legiti-
mate because many people hold them; and their popularity does
not make them self-evident. Economics abounds in instances of
The Mantle' of Science 175
arbitrary values smuggled into works the authors of which would
never think of engaging in ethical analysis or propounding an
ethical system. The virtue of equality, as we have indicated, is
simply taken for granted without justification; and it is estab-
lished, not by sense perception of reality or by showing that its
negation is self-contradictory-the true criteria of self-evidence-
but by assuming that anyone who disagrees is a knave and a
rogue. Taxation is a realm where arbitrary values flourish, and
we may illustrate by analyzing the most hallowed and surely the
most commonsensical of all tax ethics: some of Adam Smith's
famous canons of "justice" in taxation.
31
These canons have since
been treated as self-evident gospel in practically every work on
public finance. Take, for example, the canon that the costs of
collection of any tax be kept to a minimum. Obvious enough to
include in the most wertfrei treatise? Not at all-for we must not
overlook the point of view of the tax collectors. They will favor
high administrative costs of taxation, simply because high costs
mean greater opportunities for bureaucratic employment. On
what possible grounds can we call the bureaucrat "wrong" or
"unjust"? Certainly no ethical system has been offered. Further-
more, if the tax itself is considered bad on other grounds, then
the opponent of the tax may well favor high administrative costs
on the ground that there will then be less chance for the tax to
do damage by being fully collected.
Consider another seemingly obvious Smith canon, viz., that a tax
be levied so that payment is convenient. But again, this is by no
means self-evident. Opponents of a tax, for example, may want
the tax to be made purposely inconvenient so as to induce the
people to rebel against the levy. Or another: that a tax be cer-
tain and not arbitrary, so that the taxpayers know what they will
have to pay. But here again, further analysis raises. many problems.
For some may argue that uncertainty positively benefits the tax-
payers, for it makes requirements more flexible, thus allowing
more room for possible bribery of the tax collector. Another
popular maxim is that a tax he framed to make it difficult to
evade. But again, if a tax is considered unjust, evasion might be
highly beneficial, economically and morally.
The purpose of these strictures has not been to defend high
176 Scientism and Values
costs of tax collection, inconvenient taxes, bribery, or evasion, but
to show that even the tritest bits of ethical judgments in economics
are completely illegitimate. And they are illegitimate whether one
believes in Wertfreiheit or in the possibility of a rational ethic:
for such ad hoc ethical judgments violate the canons of either
school. They are neither wertfrei nor are they supported by any
systematic analysis.
6. Conclusion:
Individualism vs. Collectivism in the Study of Man
Surveying the attributes of the proper science of man as
against scientism, one finds a shining, clear thread separating one
from the other. The true science of man bases itself upon the ex-
istence of individual human beings) upon individual life and con-
sciousness. The scientistic brethren (dominant in modern times)
range themselves always against the meaningful existence of indi-
viduals: the biologists deny the existence of life, the psychologists
deny consciousness, the economists deny economics, and the politi-
cal theorists deny political philosophy. What they affirm is the ex-
istence and primacy of social wholes: "society," the "collective,"
the "group," the "nation." The individual, they assert, must be
value-free himself, but must take his values from "society." The
true science of man concentrates on the individual as of central,
epistemological and ethical importance; the adherents of scien-
tism, in contrast, lose no opportunity to denigrate the individual
and submerge him in the importance of the collective. With
such radically contrasting epistemologies, it is hardly sheer coinci-
dence that the political views of the two opposing camps tend to
be individualist and collectivist,
NOTES
I. Human action, therefore, does not occur apart from cause; human beings
must choose at any given moment, although the contents of the choice
are self-determined.
2. The sciences which deal with the functioning of man's automatic organs
-physiology, anatomy, etc.-may be included in the physical sciences,
The Mantle of Science 177
for they are not based on man's will-although even here, psychosomatic
medicine traces definite causal relations stemming from man's choices.
3. See Andrew G. Van Melsen, The Philosophy of Nature (Pittsburgh:
Duquesne University Press, 1953), pp. 208 ft., 235 ft.
While free will must be upheld for man, determinism must be equally
upheld for physical nature. For a critique of the recent fallacious notion,
based on the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, that atomic or sub-
atomic partices have "free will," see LudWig von Mises, Theory and
History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957), pp. 87-92; and
Albert H. Hobbs, Social Problems and Scientism (Harrisburg: The
Stackpole Company, 1953), pp. 220-232.
4. "Even the controversial writings of the mechanists themselves appear to
be intended for readers endowed with powers of choice. In other words,
the determinist who would win others to his way of thinking must write
as if he himself, and his readers at least, had freedom of choice, while
all the rest of mankind are mechanistically determined in thought and
in conduct." Francis L. Harmon, Principles of Psychology (Milwau-
kee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1938), p. 497, and pp. 493-499.
Also see Joseph D. Hassett, S.J., Robert A. Mitchell, S.]., and]. Donald
Monan, 5.]., The Philosophy of Human Knowing (Westminster, Md.:
The Newman Press, 1953), pp. 71-72.
5. See Mises, op. cit., pp. 258-260; and Mises, Human Action (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1949), pp. 74 ff.
6. Phillips therefore calls this attribute of an axiom a "boomerang prin-
ciple . . . for even though we cast it away from us, it returns to us
again," and illustrates by showing that an attempt to deny the Aristote-
lian law of noncontradiction must end by assuming it. R. P. Phillips,
Modern Thomistic Philosophy (Westminster, Md.: The Newman Book-
shop, 1934-35), II, 36-37. Also see John J. Toohey, S.J., Notes on Episte-
mology (Washington, D. C.: Georgetown University, 1952), passim, and
Murray N. Rothbard, "In Defense of 'Extreme Apriorism,'" Southern
Economic Journal, January, 1957, p. 318.
7. In the course of a critique of determinism, Phillips wrote: "What pur-
pose ... could advice serve if we were unable to revise a judgment we
had formed, and so act in a different way to which we at first intended?"
Phillips, op. cit., I, 282.
For stress on free will as freedom to think, to employ reason, see
Robert L. Humphrey, "Human Nature in American Thought," Political
Science Quarterly, June, 1954, p. 269; J. F. Leibell, ed., Readings in
Ethics (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1926), pp. 90, 103, 109; Robert
Edward Brennan, O. P., Thomistic Psychology (New York: The Mac-
millan Company, 1941), pp. 221-222; Van Melsen, op. cit., pp. 235-236;
and Mises, Theory and History, pp. 177-179.
8. "A man involves himself in a contradiction when he uses the reasoning
of the intellect to prove that that reasoning cannot be relied upon."
Toohey, op. cit., p. 29. Also see Phillips, op. cit., II, 16; and Frank
Thilly, A History of Philosophy (New York: Henry Holt and Co.,
1914), p. 586.
178 Scientism and Values
9. See F. A. Hayek, The Road to Serfdom (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1944), p. 26.
10. John G. Vance, "Freedom," quoted in Leibell, Ope cit.} pp. 98-100. Also
see Van Melsen, Ope cit.} p. 236, and Michael Maher, Psychology)
quoted in Leibell, Ope cit.} p. 90.
11. Thus, cf. C. I. Lewis, Mind and the World Order (Dover Publications,
1956), pp. 49-51.
12. See Hassett, Mitchell, and Monan, Ope cit.} pp. 33-35. Also see Phillips,
Ope cit.} I, 50-51; Toohey, Ope cit.} pp. 5, 36, 101, 107-108; and Thilly,
Ope cit.} p. 363.
13. Professor Strausz-Hupe also makes this point in his paper in this
symposium.
14. See Mises, Theory and History} p. 92.
15. leA machine is a device made by man. It is the realization of a design
and it runs precisely according to the plan of its authors. What produces
the product of its operation is not something within it but the purpose
the constructor wanted to realize by means of its construction. It is the
constructor and operator who create and produce, not the machine.
To ascribe to a machine any activity is anthropomorphism and animism.
The machine ... does not move; it is put into motion by men." Ibid.}
pp. 94-95.
16. See ibid.} pp. 249-250.
17. On this and many other points in this paper I am greatly indebted to
Professor Ludwig von Mises and to his development of the science of
praxeology. See Ludwig von Mises, "Comment about the Mathematical
Treatment of Economic Problems," Studium Generale} Vol. VI, No.2
(1953); Mises, Human Action} passim; and Mises, Theory and History}
pp. 240-263. The foundations of praxeology as a method were laid by
the English classical economist, Nassau Senior. Unfortunately, the posi-
tivistic John Stuart Mill's side of their methodological debate became
much better known than Senior's. See l\!Iarian Bowley, Nassau Senior
and Classical Economics (New York: Augustus M. Kelley, 1949), chap. I,
especially pp. 64-65.
18. For a critique of recent attempts to fashion a new theory of measure-
ment for intensive magnitudes, see Murray N. Rothbard, leToward a
Reconstruction of Utility and Welfare Economics," in M. Sennholz, ed.,
On Freedom and Free Enterprise} Essays in Honor of Ludwig von Mises
(Princeton: Van Nostrand, 1956), pp. 241-243.
19. On the fallacy of conceptual realism (or Platonic ultra-realism) involved
here, and on the necessity for methodological individualism, see F. A.
Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science (Glencoe, Ill.: The Free
Press, 1952), passim} and Mises, Human Action, pp. 41 if., and 45 if.
20. We may therefore say with Frank Chodorov that "society are people."
Frank Chodorov, Society Are People (Philadelphia: Intercollegiate
Society of Individualists, n.d.). For a critique of the mystique of
"society," see Mises, Theory and History, pp. 250 if.
21. See the delightful essay by Frank Chodorov, "We Lose It to Ourselves,"
analysis, June, 1950, p. 3.
The Mantle of Science 179
22. A similar error of metaphor prevails in foreign policy matters. Thus:
"When one uses the simple monosyllabic 'France' one thinks of France
as a unit, an entity. When ... we say 'France sent her troops to conquer
Tunis'-we impute not only unity but personality to the country. The
very words conceal the facts and make international relations a glamorous
drama in which personalized nations are the actors, and all too easily
we forget the flesh-and-blood men and women who are the true
actors . . . if we had no such word as 'France' . . . then we should more
accurately describe the Tunis expedition in some such way as this:
'A few of . . . thirty-eight million persons sent thirty thousand others
to conquer Tunis.' This way of putting the fact immediately suggests
a question, or rather a series of questions. Who were the 'few'? Why
did they send the thirty thousand to Tunis? And why did these obey?
Empire-building is done not by 'nations,' but by men. The problem
before us is to discover the men, the active, interested minorities in
each nation, who are directly interested in imperialism and then to
analyze the reasons why the majorities pay the expenses and fight the
wars ..." Parker Thomas Moon, Imperialism and World Politics (New
York: The Macmillan Company, 1930), p. 58.
23. Edith Tilton Penrose, "Biological Analogies in the Theory of the Firm,"
American Economic December, 1952, p. 808.
24. In his Human Action. For a defense of this method, see Rothbard, "In
Defense of 'Extreme Apriorism," loco pp. 314-320; and Rothbard,
"Praxeology: Reply to Mr. Schuller," American Economic
December, 1951, pp. 943-946.
25. E. C. Harwood, Reconstruction of Economics (Great Barrington, Mass.:
American Institute for Economic Research, 1955), p. 39. On this and
other examples of scientism, see Leland B. Yeager, "Measurement as
Scientific Method in Economics," American Journal of Economics and
July, 1957, p. 337. Also see Yeager, "Reply to Col. Harwood,"
ibid., October, 1957, pp. 104-106. As Yeager wisely concludes, "Anthropo-
morphism, rightly scorned in the natural sciences as prescientific meta-
physics, is justified in economics because economics is about human
action."
26. See Van Melsen, Ope cit., pp. 54-58, 1-16.
27. As Schumpeter declared: "The scholastic science of the Middle Ages
contained all the germs of the laical science of the Renaissance." The
experimental method was used notably by Friar Roger Bacon and
Peter of Maricourt in the thirteenth century; the heliocentric system of
astronomy originated inside the Church (Cusanus was a cardinal and
Copernicus a canonist); and the Benedictine monks led the way in
developing medieval engineering. See Joseph A. Schumpeter, History
of Economic Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1954), pp.
81 if.; and Lynn White, Jr., "Dynamo and Virgin Reconsidered," The
American Scholar, Spring, 1958, pp. 183-212.
28. For a refutation of the charge that this is a circular argument, see
Rothbard, "Toward a Reconstruction of Utility and Welfare Eco-
nomics," loco cit., p. 228.
180 Scientism and Values
29. "When they [the practical scientists] remember their vows of objectivity,
they get other people to make their judgments for them." Anthony
Standen, Science Is a Sacred Cow (New York: E. P. Dutton and Co.,
1958), p. 165.
30. John F. Due, Government Finance (Homewood, Ill.: Richard D. Irwin,
1954), p. 122.
31. Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations (New York: Modern Library,
1937), pp. 777-779.
9
Growth, in Biology and
in Education
RALPH W. LEWIS
The purpose of this paper is to examine briefly the bodies
of knowledge in biology and in education which are concerned
with the phenomena generally known as "growth." The kinds of
facts and the few laws and theories present in these segments of
biology and education will be discussed. Attention will be given
to the internal structure of the laws and theories that give or-
ganization within these bodies of knowledge and to some of the
limitations of these laws and theories. Predictions made from the
laws and theories will be scrutinized as a means of determining
the worth of the concepts. >II: With the discussion on growth as a
background, plus a few statements about other concepts that have
been applied to the detriment of education, a set of criteria will
be presented by which one can decide if concepts are worthy of
being used as a basis for making decisions about human affairs.
1. Biological Growth
Biological growth consists basically of increase in the amount
of protoplasm usually accompanied by differentiation of the
protoplasm. Because of the great complexity of the problem, biol-
• I use the word "concept" loosely in this paper to mean idea, law, or theory.
181
182 Scientism and Values
ogists have conceptually and experimentally separated the two
aspects of growth, increase and differentiation, even though in
the growth of organisms they are not separate activities. Since
there is no general theory of growth that deals with growth in toto
by subsuming the two huge categories of facts concerning the two
aspects of growth, one must examine each separately.
Even a quick look at the quantitative aspects of growth in
biological writings soon leads one to the Verhulst-Pearl law of
growth (19) or some modification of this law. This law says that
under the right conditions an individual or a population starting
anew in a favorable environment will grow through the following
phases (9):
1. Lag phase: growth rate null.
2. Acceleration phase: growth rate increases.
3. Exponential phase: growth rate constant.
4. Retardation phase: growth rate decreases.
5. Stationary phase: growth rate null.
6. Decline phas,e: growth rate negative.
The usual method of determining quantitative growth is to
measure the amount of protoplasm present at intervals of time.
Measurement of the amount of protoplasm is never a direct
process. Wet weight, dry weight, number of cells, linear measure-
ment, and the like are assumed to give a figure which is directly
proportional to the amount of protoplasm in the organism. When
the growth measurements are plotted against time, the growth
curve will be the so-called S-shaped curve and will show the phases
noted above. The curve is not really S-shaped. The lag phase
starts parallel to the horizontal time coordinate. During the ac-
celeration phase the growth curve bends upward along the growth
measurement coordinate until it reaches the exponential phase,
which is represented by nearly a straight line sloping at an angle
dependent upon growth rate. This maximum rate of growth
begins to slow down as the retardation phase sets in. Gradually
growth slows down until decline balances growth and the sta-
tionary phase is reached, the curve in this phase being again
horizontal. Decline follows, and growth rate is negative.
This law of growth, despite its narrow limitations, has been very
Growth} in Biology and, in Education 183
useful in biology. It forms the basis for the development of assay
methods for vitamins and other biologically important substances;
it permits comparisons of different diets; it forms the basis for
recognizing and analyzing variability in populations; it is, useful
in exploring the problem of enzymatic adaptation; and other
problems such as the exploration of factors in. the environment
that affect growth.
One often finds that growth fails to follow the expected S curve.
Deviations in the curve suggest that unexpected factors are at
work. These factors may be in the external or in the internal
environment. The work of Braun (2) describes a situation in
which an internal genetic factor and external nutritional factors
are at work simultaneously in modifying the typical growth curve.
Knowledge of the law of growth, plus much other knowledge,
often makes it possible for scientists to explain apparent deviations
from the law, and thus the law of growth forms the basis for
advances in biological knowledge.
The growth of populations, or of individuals in nature seldom
follows the law of growth in detail. The smooth curves are based
chiefly upon laboratory data. Varying factors in a natural environ-
ment, such as temperature, rainfall, food supply, disease, usually
disturb the even growth curve that is so often found under labo-
ratory conditions.
Inherent factors will cause pronounced deviations from the law
of growth in many organisms, whether growing in nature or in
the laboratory. In mammals the inherent characteristic of carrying
the young internally through early stages of growth greatly affects
the growth curve of each individual. The onset of activity in some
endocrine glands may also affect growth to a considerable extent.
Both of these effects are pronounced in human growth.
In this brief look at the law of growth we have already noted
some of the applications and limitations of the concept. Even
when we consider its application to quantitative growth alone,
the law has stringent limitations. As a descriptive tool the law
serves fairly well under carefully controlled conditions, but even
here difficulties exist. A statement by Sholl (17) points out some
of these difficulties when considering the growth of an animal.
184 Scientism and Values
To illustrate this discussion it is convenient to consider the array of
points resulting from plotting the weight of an organism against its
age; the principles will apply to any other measure of size while the
extremely difficult problem of shape (Medawar, 1945) will not be
considered. In general, this array of points will lie scattered about
some line which is a picture of the general trend of growth of the
animal, and our first problem is the description of this line. Such a
line can give no information about fine details, but is rather like the
line depicting the track of a railway on a continental map; the general
direction of the railway is shown, but small variations do not
appear.
There was a time when many workers thought it possible to find the
fonnulation of such a line by a priori methods, by thinking of chemi-
cal metabolism, surface absorption, and similar notions. There have
been numerous examples of this kind, and perhaps the best known is
Robertson's autocatalytic theory and the resulting curve. We are now
more fully aware of our inability to specify the many factors that may
be responsible for growth in terms of a few parameters, let alone
finding a mathematical statement about their relationships; in any
case, such a relationship would be of such a complexity that it would
not be expressible in terms of simple mathematical functions. Further
it must be remembered that if any such function were fitted to the
data, no demonstration of closeness of fit can ever prove the curve to
be that one which is in any sense the unique "true" curve.
At the other methodological extreme we should be tempted to use
the purely mathematical approach and use a polynomial of such a
degree that the fit was adequate. This would be statistically highly
satisfactory, but it would be very difficult to interpret the resulting
curve and to assign a biological interpretation to the parameters in-
volved.
Consequently, we must consider a more empirical approach, and the
two criteria for choosing a curve would seem to be that it must
provide a good statistical fit and also have a reasonably simple func-
tional expression involving the number of interpretable parameters.
. . . Naturally, we shall draw on our biological experience where
possible and choose curves whose parameters have a biological sig-
nificance.
. . . As is often the case in the application of mathematics to biology,
we see that we are well advised to combine our intuitive approach
with suitable mathematical methods....
Growth} in Biology and in Education 185
Because of the large number of significant variables that can
affect growth, the growth law has rather limited predictive powers.
For example, I have determined the growth of a fungus on a
simple medium under carefully controlled conditions. I have
determined growth curves when different amino acids or vitamins
were included in the medium. From these data I would like to
predict what will happen when I use other vitamins or amino
acids singly or in combinations. But from the growth data which
I have accumulated I cannot predict new situations. Of course,
I can say that if growth occurs at all, its plot will be an S curve.
Also, if I have controlled the amount of energy food, I can usually
predict the level of the stationary phase; but that is all. As a
predictive tool, the growth law has not yet proved very fertile.
Von Bertalanffy (21) has related, in many animal species, the
metabolic rate of an organism to the type of growth curve pro-
duced by the organism. He says that there are three classes of
animals as determined by plotting their growth curves and that
the class to which an animal belongs can be predicted from a
determination of the "metabolic type" of the organism. Thus,
this work, "aimed at establishing connections between metabolism
arid growth," has greatly extended the importance of growth
studies and, the author says, forms the basis for a gener.al growth
theory.
Studies on the relative quantitative growth of different parts
of a single organism, called "allometric growth," have produced
a law of fairly wide applicability among both animals and plants.
This law can be stated simply by saying that if the logarithm of
the measurement of one organ is, plotted against the logarithm of
the measurement of another organ of the same animal, and if
this is repeated several times during growth, the points will fall
on a straight line. Bonner (I) considers this law of allometric
growth to be descriptive only and without the capacity to reveal
hidden biological secrets.
Because the law of allometric growth compares two organs of
one organism, it can be expected to be free from many fluctua-
tions due to internal or external environmental factors; thus, in
the future it may have great value when eventually it is related
186 Scientism and Values
by new concepts to other biological laws. At present the limita-
tions of the law are apparent in the facts it interrelates, and the
few predictions it permits.
The study of differentiation has produced all. enormous collec-
tion of facts. These facts deal with changes that occur in organisms
as they grow and mature. Most of the facts have come from ob-
servations of gross and microscopic structures as they change
during the development of an adult from a zygote. The observa-
tions have revealed structures and activities that are so complex
that no theory has yet been produced which is even partially ade-
quate in providing a general explanatory system with fruitful
predictive powers. Several broad and important generalizations
arrived at by simple enumeration are present, but there is as yet
no general theory comparable to the theory of evolution or the
gene theory which are so fruitful in other areas of biology.
2. Educational Growth
Educational growth is a much confused concept. A goodly
portion of the confusion arises from the willingness of many in-
dividuals to accept weak, tentative hypotheses as truth or as a
good approximation of truth. Additional confusion arises from an
extrapolation (sometimes willfully, but more often unwittingly)
of a small understanding of biological growth into the area of
educational growth. Some basis for analogy between the two
exists, but it remains analogy, and good scientists would not use
knowledge of the biological growth of babies as an argument to
support an idea concerning the educational growth of children.
Examples of this kind of argument are noted below under Resist-
ance to Displacement and Convergence and under Developmental
Theory in Education.
The term "growth" as used in its fullest sense in the science
of education subsumes both the biological growth of human
beings and all other aspects of human growth such as intellectual,
artistic, personality, social, moral, emotional, and perceptual
growth (3, 8, 12). Physical growth in humans is determined by
the same kinds of methods that can be used on almost any higher
Growth) in Biology and in Education 187
animal. In addition to height and weight measurements, other
criteria such as strength of grip, carpal development as determined
from X-ray photographs, and dental development are often used
for determining physical growth.
Growth of mental attributes is measured by a number of
different kinds of psychological tests and by verbal descriptions.
Some of the tests used and the attributes they are presumed to
measure are: Kuhlmann-Binet, mental age; Gates and Stanford,
reading age; Stanford, educational age; Doll, social age; Furfey
and Sullivan, developmental age.
The scores on these tests and the biological measurements are
not used directly in the studies considered below, but are con..
verted to "growth ages." Norms have been established for each
test and for each biological characteristic by determining the aver..
age of representative groups of children of different chronological
ages for each of the biological and mental attributes. The meas..
urement or score of the testee is compared to the set of norms,
and his "growth age" is that of the norm equaled by his measure-
ment or score. Thus, if a seven-year-old receives, a score on a Kuhl-
mann-Binet test equal to the norm for nine-year-olds, he will be
given a mental age rating of nine. If his height measurement
equals the norm for eight-year-olds, his height age will be eight.
Collectively mental age, height age, weight, reading age, etc.,
are called growth ages.
Although most of the following discussion will be concerned
with growth ages for both biological and mental attributes, a
word about intelligence quotient, I.Q., will explain the virtual
omission of the term. An I.Q. score is the mental age, as deter..
mined above, divided by the testee's chronological age multiplied
by one hundred. This kind of score does not permit a ready com-
parison with the age units as determined for the other attributes
and so is not used for studies of "total" growth discussed below.
The most comprehensive and the most scientific studies on the
growth of the "whole" child are those of Olson (12). He and his
colleagues have determined growth ages of many children, usually
from age five to age twelve. 'The growth ages for each child are
determined several times during the seven-year span. The pub-
188 Scientism and Values
lished data resulting from the tests and measurements are usually
presented on graphs with the chronological age on the horizontal
axis and the growth age on the vertical axis. The height ages for
a child are plotted above the corresponding chronological ages,
and the points. are joined successively by straight lines. All the
other growth ages are plotted in like manner on the same graph.
Since all the attributes usually increase in time, the graph of a
child's growth consists of a series of lines ascending across the
graph to the right.
Olson and Hughes (15) thought "it would be of interest in
testing hypotheses of children as wholes [sic!] to study the center of
gravity of growth systems and the relation of separate aspects of
growth to the whole." In order to do this they plotted an "organ-
ismic age" curve for each child so studied. The organismic age for
anyone chronological age was computed by averaging all the
growth ages for that chronological age. After an organismic age
was computed for each chronological age, the points were plotted
and connected in sequence, thus producing the organismic age
curve.
After studying many children by means of growth age curves,
Olson has arrived at some conclusions and definitions, a theory
of growth, and a number of applications of his views to the prob-
lems of education. In the remainder of this essay I shall describe
and criticize several of these ideas. I am omitting for the sake
of brevity any critical examination of the raw "facts," the bases
upon which they rest, and their statistical manipulation. In the
present discussion I shall assume that growth curves are a "true"
representation of the attribute for which they stand.
Pattern.
A pattern of growth refers to the relationship of various measured
characteristics within an individual at a given point in time, or to a
succession of changes with time. Thus a child who at the age ten has
a high mental age, a high reading age, and a somewhat lower height
age, weight age, carpal age, and dental age, differs from one who has
high physical ages and relatively low mental and achievement ages.
Growth) in Biology and in Education 189
One might also speak of a given child's pattern of growth in reading
as showing a period of plateau from ages six to nine with a rapid
increase or spurt in the period from ages nine to twelve.(ll)
A study of the patterns of growth of large numbers of children
has led Olson (12, 16) to rather definite ideas about the growth
of children. Some of these ideas are "unfolding design," "going
togetherness," "variation," "stability of the center of gravity,"
"resistance to displacement," "convergence," and "deprivation."
Unfolding Design. Everyday experience supplies us with the in-
formation that, as children grow physically, some kind of "un-
folding" of mental attributes occurs and that this unfolding
roughly parallels physical development. No one doubts this. Nor
does anyone doubt that children are as different in mental at-
tributes as they are in physical attributes. But as a person goes
from an examination of biological gro,vth to an examination of
early and late mental development of children, he will recognize
the stringent limitations of "unfolding design" as a scientific con-
cept.
Olson (12) states "... that a child has a design for growing,
that optimum nurture fulfills this design." What does he mean
by "design"? Does he mean that "design" and "optimum nurture"
are singular and fixed for a developing child? In this quotation it
seems that he does consider them singular and fixed, yet in his
discussions of nature and nurture he seems not to take such a
limited view of the potentialities of human development.
Once the data are in and the growth curves are plotted, a single,
limited design for a child certainly is present on the graph. Con-
sider, however, a child of five. Is there a single design to be
followed by this child in his grovvth? As a biologist I cannot con-
ceive of the design as fixed except within very wide and, at
present, very indefinite limits. Several years ago I became aware
that the biological concept of optimum nutrition was of little
use. Innumerable combinations of nutrients produce maximum
growth in weight, while some of these combinations and perhaps
still others unidentified produce optimum qualitative character-
190 Scientism and Values
istics. The same can be said for other environmental factors. Thus,
at the biological level the "design" present at the start of growth
has before it in time a huge number of possible designs. There is
no such thing as an optimum nurture. Dozens, possibly thousands,
of different combinations of environmental factors may supply the
conditions for achieving a single kind of optimum or a number
of different optima simultaneously. Many kinds of optima are
known, and probably many are yet to be discovered. Therefore,
for an individual of any species, I hesitate to speak of "optimum
nurture" and of "design" for growth without a careful qualific.a-
tion of "optimum" and of "nurture."
Since mental growth stems from, but greatly supersedes, the
complexities of biological growth, the term "design" should be
discarded in talking of the growth of children, especially when
presented against a background of growth curves. So presented,
it may be even more readily misused than were I.Q. scores in their
day (18, 20). Som.e term which conveys the idea of the plural
potentialities of children should be coined before the textbooks
of education take up such statements as the following: "Every
child progresses toward a specific maximum." "Each child is ap-
parently born with potentialities for growing according to a speci-
fic design" (8). The "design" as seen in growth graphs is ex post
facto and should never be taken to represent what was fixed there
before the design was recorded.
Going Togetherness) Variation) Center of Gravity of Growth)
and Readiness. The literature at hand (6, 7, 8, 12, 13, 16) contains
graphs of sets of growth age curves for a total of twenty children.
Each child's record is a pattern unto himself. In one paper (16)
four graphs are chosen to illustrate a "going togetherness" of all
growth attributes in each child. These four graphs do illustrate
this, and the author says that based upon other graphs of fifty-six
boys and girls (which he does not show) "... one secures a most
dramatic picture of the generalization that growth tends towards
unified patterns."
But among the twenty growth graphs shown in the six publica-
tions, only eleven show "trends toward unified patterns"; nine
Growth) in Biology and in Education 191
do not. From these data, therefore, I find it difficult to see that
the ideas of "going togetherness" and "variations" are much
refined beyond the common-sense understanding of these that an
experienced teacher possesses without any special study of growth.
Hughes (5) has examined variability among and within a hun-
dred boys, ages four to twelve. Instead of plotting all growth ages
for one boy on a graph, he has used a single growth age, such as
height age, on the vertical axis and the chronological age on the
horizontal. The curves for the one hundred boys are plotted on
one graph. Ten graphs for ten biological and mental attributes
are thus presented. Concerning these graphs he says: "The evi-
dence is clear in showing that there are great differences in the
distribution of measures (ordinate values) when the chronological
age is held constant. In addition it should be noted that the varia-
tion of age (abscissa values) is almost equally great when the value
of the measure is constant."
Some idea of the differences in distribution is secured by ex-
amining the height age and the mental age curves. At height age
ten about ninety percent of the curves spread over a horizontal
distance of three chronological years. At mental age ten about
ninety percent of the curves spread over a horizontal distance of
three and a half chronological years. The other sets of curves
are quite similar in spread to the mental age curves.
Hughes' paper develops a new view of organismic growth.
Instead of being satisfied with the organismic growth curve of an
individual as the measure of the "center of gravity" of growth,
he plots a narrow band and wider band over the organismic curve
by specified mathematical techniques. The organismic curve is
approximately at the center of these two bands. The inner band
is about half the width of the wider band.
Concerning these graphs Hughes says:
The central dense band has been labeled the organismic area and has
been presented to suggest that for management and educational pur-
poses the child is generally "mature" within the limits of the band on
an ordinate and generally "ready" to fit a level on any abscissa. Also
192 Scientism and Values
the organismic area is shown to illustrate more clearly the fact that
both maturity and readiness are distributed as necessary consequences
of variation within the individual rather than narrowly fixed as the
organismic age line would imply.
The peripheral lighter band has been added to the pattern to insure
recognition of another fact of within variability [sid]; namely, that for
about 20 to 25 percent of growth items, maturity and readiness are,
indeed, very broadly distributed.
Within some individual graphs and from graph to graph, there
is in the organismic area a variation in "readiness" from one half
to three chronological years and a variation in "maturity" of about
the same number of growth years. For the peripheral band, that
is, for about twenty percent of the growth items, readiness and
maturity extend twice as far-from one to six chronological years.
Most teachers will agree that Hughes' treatment of "readiness"
and "maturity" expresses these concepts in a manner much closer
to reality as determined by observations of growing children. The
concepts in this form appear to agree with Olson's (12) observa-
tion that "one of the striking abilities of the human organism is
the power to take on new modifications throughout its lifetime."
With these views of variability in mind, one wonders if possibly
"readiness" in most students may not be more a matter of being
ready for persistent work at studies rather than being some innate
developmental factor which cannot be overcome by insistence
upon reasonable standards of accomplishment.
Resistance to Displacement and Convergence. Under the head-
ing "Resistance to Displacement" Olson (12) says:
A useful principle growing out of hundreds of studies of growth is
that if an experimental factor capable of producing a difference in
growth is introduced, either artificially or naturally, a child tends to
resume his own normal rate of growth as soon as the factor disappears
or is removed.
To support this view Olson cites a study on head sizes of pre-
mature and mature infants. Is this kind of extrapolation, which
Growth) in Biology and in Education 193
I have found often in the literature of child development, sensible
when considering the mental growth of children?
The resumption of the normal rate of growth after "depriva-
tion" or "extra stimulation" is "convergence." Olson cites ex-
amples of convergence from endocrine therapy and from a t ~
tempts to stimulate progress in arithmetic and reading. Progress
is made during "treatment," but when special attention is stopped,
the children resume their previous pattern. Millard (6) presents a
striking example of convergence. A girl was given special tutoring
in spelling and made phenomenal gains. After the tutoring
stopped, she drifted back to the level of her ascending spelling
curve.
The convergence notion is evidently not widely held. Thomp-
son (20) cites considerable evidence which appears not to agree.
Olson (12) goes to considerable pains to refute the work which
presumably showed that special tutoring helped slow readers to
become better readers. He says: "Many studies (on remedial
reading) of the foregoing types have been reported, but they
fail to randomize or control persistence and industry." Herein lie
two of the most crucial aspects in the development of mental at-
tributes. Can they be "randomized"? Are they not often deter-
mined by the complexities of the teacher-pupil relationship to
such an extent that they defy measurement?' Those who have been
taught by at least one teacher with the power to engender persist-
ence and industry acquire the knowledge that displacement is real
and that convergence can be overcome.
Developmental Theory in Education. Although I disagree
strongly with many of Olson's views on education, I favor his con..
tinuous application to studies of growth through the last two
decades. I also favor his recent attempt at presentation of .a de-
velopmental theory (14) in such a complex field of knowledge.
Unfortunately, I do not understand his. type of theory, and I
question if it is really a theory. The pattern presented by Werk-
meister (22) as exemplifying physical theory is not present. Nor is
the pattern-facts A, B; deduction 1; fact C; deduction 2; fact
D; deduction 3-such as is found in the theory of evolution (4)
present.
194 Scientism and Values
This absence of a clear pattern may be a sign of developments
to follow. Confusion at the beginning seems to be a normal step
in the growth of theories. For examples of this see the Harvard
Case Histories in Experimental Science) especially the one by Nash
(10) on The Atomic-Molecular Theory in which Dalton's early
difficulties are discussed.
Olson (14) first defines growth, maturation, and development.
He then presents five "developmental equations" as follows:
1. Maturation X Nurture = Development
He says that equation I is too simple if thought of only as a
factor system.
2. Maturation X Zero nurture = Zero achievement
3. Variable maturation X Constant supply nurture = Variable
achievement
4. Constant maturation X Variable supply nurture = Variable
achievement
Equations 1 through 4 are clearly too simple an answer, for there
appears to be evidence for "differential uptake." This results in an
enhancement effect, because the differentials, once established in
achievement, in turn so modify the organism as to make it more
selective, permitting more rapid uptake in some and less rapid in
others. In effect, then, the constant supply is surely a myth, since
children seek a larger or smaller supply from what is available, as in
the following equation:
5. Variable maturation X Differential uptake of nurture = En-
hanced variable achievement
Next Olson presents "The Nature of the Evidence." He says:
"There is much evidence to support the general theory back of
the writing of such equations as those preceding." What can he
mean by this? I had presumed that the equations were possibly
the postulates of the theory. Does the theory lie behind these,
or is the evidence what lies behind them?
Growth} in Biology and' in Education 195
He next describes growth ages briefly and then presents a graph
in which the organismic .age curves of three groups of boys are
compared to their reading curves. The boys were s,eparated into
three groups on the basis of their reading scores at age eleven:
fast, intermediate, and slow readers. The organismic age curve
and the reading age curve of the fast readers are above the other
curves from age six to eleven. Except for ages seven to eight the
two curves for the intermediate readers are between the curves for
slow readers and fast readers. Both curves for the slow readers
are below the others except at age six, where the slow readers
are slightly better ,at reading than the intermediate. On the basis
of the graph Olson argues in support of equation 5 above.
From this he moves to a model which consists of three approxi-
mately parallel lines extending diagonally across a growth age-
chronological age plot. The curves represent rapid, average, and
slow growth "according to the equation Maturation X Nur-
ture = Development." Concerning this model Olson says:
We can now set up a series of concepts involving known facts sur-
rounding the model. These are of varying degrees of generalization,
and each should be preceded by the qualification "other things being
equal." The model is based on the assumption that the growth repre-
sented by the curves represents a composite according to the equation
Maturation X Nurture = Development. Viewed alone it appears as
a relatively static model with much stability and continuity. Injected
into a social field, however, the children represented become dynamic
in the sense of relationship to other individuals and to meeting the
requirements of each situation.
What general theory can be built around the model in the illustra-
tion?
Principles of Human Development
Concepts that will stand the test of universality, of experiment, and
of prediction are hard to come by in afield governed by multiple
causation. When stated, such concepts are limited in the sense that
other postulates may in part account for the phenomenon. There is
always something of an indeterminant character when variable indi-
viduals experience variable nurture.
196 Scientism and Values
The following postulate comes close to having generality: "For all
achievements which increase with chronological age, the rapidly
growing child will yield the achievement earlier, and the slowly
growing child will achieve the status later than the average child of a
given age."
From such a postulate one can predict in advance the individual
differences that will exist, the factors that must be observed in an
adequate experimental design, and the constant errors which must be
allowed for or adjusted. We can predict in advance the results of
many types of experiment. With such a postulate a person can predict,
as an average trend at least, many of the types, of data that can be
secured in a classroom group or even in physiological experiments.
The basic evidence needed for the predictions is a fairly accurate
account of age change. For example, knowing that emotional out-
bursts decrease in number and severity with age, we can predict that
a child showing such outbursts will have many characteristics of the
slowly gro'wing child. Some of the objective findings on associations
with the model furnish a basis for more general theory.
Associations with the Model
Here are some operational associations and deductions from the
model. It should be noted that the effects are not only in the model
as constructed, but also in the matrix of all the associated factors
that go into the loading of the model. The differ,ences shown have
important associations with socioeconomic status, social acceptability,
responsibility, levels of interests, reaction to frustration, age of accom-
plishment of developmental tasks, and many valued traits of character
and personality. The differences also run in families and are remark-
ably resistant to planned change, although reflecting changes in design
over the years.
More specifically, A [the top curve] as contrasted with C [the bottom
curve] will be higher in social age, will be advanced in interests, and
will be superior in social status in the group. C, contrasted with A,
will have more behavior problems, whether checked by self, teacher,
parent, or associates. Child A as contrasted with Child C will be
characterized by more active, seeking behavior in general, including
motivation for achievement. His appetite and interest in food will be
greater, although calories per unit of body weight will be less in
accord with the age trend. .
Growth} in Biology and in Education 197
The associates of A will be more like A than they are like C, and
similarly, the associates of C will be more like C than like A. The
rationalization of the association may be in terms of social status, i n ~
terest, values, levels of development, or comparable skills of achieving
or performing.
Some examples of the significance of the associations for other
systematic approaches can be illustrated.
The headings of the sections. that follow are: The Model and
Psychoanalytic Theory, The Model and Frustration-Aggression
Theory, The Model and Theories of Intelligence, Reconciliation
of Explanatory Theories, Individual Predictions. versus Explana-
tory Principles, The Task of Education, and Seeking, Self-Selec-
tion, and Pacing.
What I find in Olson's theory is not what I understand as theory
in science, but rather a number of generalizations by simple enu-
meration, some tentative hypotheses, some vague ideas, and some
discussions on related topics,. Some of the generalizations seem
to me to be those that the percipient and thoughtful teacher
would arrive at after two or three years of teaching.
Nowhere is my study of growth age patterns or of this theory
do I find a good discussion of the large middle group of average
students. The slow and the fast can be recognized, but the only
mention of the middle group is the paper by Hughes (5).
On the basis of understanding derived from growth. theory
and from other "concepts of values and directions," Olson makes
many recommendations about pedagogy. One of these is that
"absolute standards" are not good. Possibly this is a good decision
when considering the children at the high and low levels, but
what about the large group in the center? Were not the so-called
absolute standards arrived at by the te.achers who had had long
experience with children? Are not the so-called absolute standards
the standards that were found to be achievable by this large
central group of children?
Seeking, self-selection, and pacing are also recommended by
Olson on the basis of his theory of growth. These recommenda-
tions are made on the ground that "The idea that there exists a
198 Scientism and Values
'wisdom of the body' that enables children to make wise choices
in matters educational has led to direct demonstrations and a
whole theory of curriculum and method in education." The paper
(23) cited in Olson's book as a demonstration of the working of
this idea showed the self-selection group to be a little better in
a few attributes than the group taught in the traditional manner.
The differences were not so great that I would be convinced until
I saw the results of many more experiments.
In support of his views on seeking and self-selection Olson (14)
resorts once to a biological analogy, twice to infant growth, and
once to the activities of preschool children. Are these a sound
basis for making decisions about the management of schools?' Why
does he not present growth age curves which would permit me
to comp.are children schooled in a traditional way with those
schooled under the "wisdom of the body" idea? Ample evidence
of this sort would do much to convert the "wisdom of the body"
idea from a weak analogy with a biological concept into an educa-
tional hypothesis.
Olson says that in order to be sure the seeking activity of the
student is satisfied to the full, the teacher must be sure to provide
the materials at the right time. This activity of the teacher is
called pacing. Pacing also "refers to the attitude which expects
from the child only that which he can yield at his stage of
maturity."
Some students of child development appear not to be impressed
by what they have seen of the permissive treatment of children in
schools which presumably gains support from the above ideas.
Their views contrast strongly with the ideas of "wisdom of the
body" and of seeking and pacing. Breckenridge and Vincent (3)
say:
It is in order to build a secure sense of being needed and useful
that children should learn to work. Our recent emphasis upon pro-
tecting children from child labor, our urgent planning to fill chil-
dren's time with happiness and play, our progressive education em-
phasis upon making learning quick and easy through proje,cts and
Growth) in Biology and in Education 199
easily motivated activities-all this has resulted in depriving children
of the opportunity to learn to work for the sheer sake of fulfilling
necessary obligations and responsibilities.
3. Criteria for the Application of Scientific Concepts to Humans
The headlong rush to apply new facts and new concepts in
the field of education has brought disrepute to professional educa-
tion in the eyes of most scholars and in the eyes of many· citizens.
During the last few decades we have seen, for example, the theory
of identical elements and a strongly narrowed concept of utility
used as the bases for discarding the classics, foreign language,
mathematics, and science from the school curricula and from the
curriculum of individual students. We have seen the loose and
unstudied concept of life adjustment used as a basis for inserting
trivia into the regular school hours. Possibly the concept of de-
velopment is destined to be used as a basis for the support of
more trivia. I hope not, because it may develop into a con-
cept of real worth if treated with scholarly rigor, criticism, and
imagination.
We have seen the concept of interest in relation to learning
perverted into a concept of whim and caprice to such an extent
that lack of interest is constantly used by students as a "reason"
for not studying. We have seen a concept of integration of knowl-
edge used as the basis for disrupting pedagogical and learning ef-
ficiency. This has been done by creating core courses, activity
programs, practical courses, community studies, and the like in
lieu of the study of traditional bodies of knowledge. The tradi-
tional bodies of knowledge exist because there are inherent in
them patterns of multiple reasoned relationships that give the
best order and greatest simplicity so far achieved. They exist also
because they are the most economical way of learning something
of the real breadth and depth of human experience. To disrupt
this order at the teaching level is to take from the teacher variety,
order, and simplicity in presentation; and to take from the stu-
dent a wealth of opportunities to explore and rediscover the rea-
200 Scientism and Values
soned pathways which were the great achievements of the master
minds.
Since man, even though mistaken in his views, will always
strive to apply concepts to better the lot of man, how can he avoid
the misapplication of concepts? In those areas whose concepts de-
rive from science, this question can be answered in part. Before
a concept is applied we should know well the internal struc-
ture of the concept and the facts it interrelates·. The concept
should have withstood the buffetings of scholarly criticism by
virtue of its intellectual integrity. And the concept should have
been explored long enough and thoroughly enough so that we are
aware of several of its major limitations. If the concept is to be
taught to prospective teachers who will be expected to apply it,
. then the limitations should be well enough worked out so they
can be taught with efficiency and clarity. These criteria for the
application of concepts to humans are severe for persons who seem
to prefer immediate utility to understanding; yet, in the long
run, the criteria will contribute much to both utility and under-
standing.
NOTES
1. J. T. Bonner, Morphogenesis, An Essay on Development (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1952).
2. W. Braun, "Studies on Population Changes in Bacteria and Their
Relation to Some General Biological Problems," American Naturalist,
LXXXVI (1952), 355-371.
3. M. E. Breckenridge, and E. L. Vincent, Child Development, Physical
and Psychological Growth Through the School Years (3rd ed.; Phila-
dephia: W. B. Saunders Company, 1955).
4. G. de Beer, "The Darwin-Wallace Centenary," Endeavour, XVII (1958),
61-76.
5. B. O. Hughes, "Variability Among and Within Individuals in Relation
to Education," Merrill-Palmer Quarterly, I (1957), 167-187.
6. W. A. Ketcham, "Growth Patterns for Gifted Chidren," Merrill-Palmer
Quarterly, I (1957), 188-197.
7. E. Mechem, "Affectivity and Growth in Children," Child Development,
XIV (1943), 91-115.
8. C. V. Millard, Child Growth and Development (Boston: D. C. Heath
and Company, 1951).
Growth) in Biology and in Education 201
9. J. Monod, "The Growth of Bacterial Cultures," Annual Review of
III (1949), 371-394.
10. L. K. Nash, "The Atomic-Molecular Theory," Case 4, Harvard Case
Histories in Experimental Science (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1950).
II. W. C. Olson, "l\1eaning of Growth," in C. V. Millard, ed., Child Growth
in an Era of Conflict, Fifteenth Yearbook, Michigan Education Associa-
tion and Department of Elementary School Principals (Lansing, 1944).
12. W. C. Olson, Child Development (Boston: D. C. Heath and Company,
1949).
13. W. C. Olson, "Achievement as Development," International Review of
III (1957), 135-142.
14. W. C. Olson, "Developmental Theory in Education," in D. B. Harris,
ed., The Concept of Development (Minneapolis: University of Min-
nesota Press, 1957).
15. W. C. Olson, and B. O. Hughes, "The Concept of Organismic Age,"
Journal of Educational XXXV (1942), 525-527.
16. W. C. Olson, and B. O. Hughes, "Growth of the Child as a Whole," in
R. G. Barker, J. S. Kounin, and H. F. Wright, Child Behavior and
Development (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1943).
17. D. A. Sholl, "Regularities in Growth Curves, Including Rhythms and
Allometry," in E. J. Boell, ed., Dynamics of Growth Soc. for
the Study of Development and Growth (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1954).
18. J. C. Sullivan, "Effect of Teacher Pressure," in C. V. Millard, ed., Child
Growth and Development in an Era of Fifteenth Yearbook,
Michigan Education Association and Department of Elementary School
Principals (Lansing, 1944).
19. D'Arcy W. Thompsbn, On Growth and Form (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1948).
20. G. G. Thompson, Child Psychology (Boston: Houghton MifHin Com-
pany, 1952).
21. L. von Bertalanffy, "Quantitative Laws in Metabolism and Growth,"
Quarterly Review of Biology, XXXII (1957), 217-231.
22. W. H. Werkmeister, The Basis and Structure of Knowledge (New York:
Harper and Brothers, 1948).
23. J. W. Wrightstone, "Evaluation of the Experiment with the Activity
Program in the New York City Elementary Schools," Journal of Edu-
cational Research, XXXVIII (1944), 252-257.
10
The Psychopathology of Scientism
LUDWIG VON BERTALANFFY
10 The Epistemological Basis
Scientism and its epistemological root, positivism, either in
the original form given to it by Comte and his contemporaries
or as modem logical positivism, are not an invention of the scien-
tists. As Hayek
1
has admirably stated:
From Francis Bacon ... to August Comte, and the "physicalists" of
our own day, the claims for the exclusive virtues of the specific
methods employed by the natural sciences were mostly 'advanced
by men whose right to speak on behalf of the scientists were not above
suspicion ... The enthusiasm for physicism (it is now called physi-
calism) and the use of "physical language," the attempt to "unify
science" and to make it the basis of morals ... the desire to organize
the work of others, particularly by editing a great encyclopedia and
the wish to plan life in general on scientific lines are all present [in
Saint-Simon's philosophy].
The present writer feels entitled to some criticism because he
himself came from the Vienna Circle, having been a pupil of its
founder, M. Schlick. The criticism proffered by Hayek may be
202
The Psychopathology of Scientism 203
supplem.ented by stating the fact that scientific research rarely
follows the rigid commandments of the positivists. Many scientific
developments started with "metaphysical" problems which, ac-
cording to logical positivism, should have been discarded as pseudo
problems at the beginning, the theory of the atom, starting with
the wild speculations of Democritus and Lucretius, being an
example. Even mechanics, the prototype of exact science, was
freed from metaphysics and theology only slowly in a period ex-
tending from Kepler to Lagrange. Kepler himself derived his
laws, not from solid principles of scientific research, but from
unbridled neoplatonic speculations. Physical notions like "force"
or "cause" were quite anthropomorphic in the beginning, and it
took a long development until they were "deanthropomorphized"
and became concepts in the sense of exact science and mathe-
matical description of nature.
I t is therefore no wonder that the biological, behavioral, and
social sciences also began with vitalistic, philosophical, and meta-
physical notions and have only slowly reached a state where they
can deal with problems according to the modern standards of
science.
In truth, of course, science essentially is a symbolic system
created in such a way as to describe certain aspects. of experience.
What cannot be confirm.ed by experience is by this very fact
outside the field of science; but this is not a recent discovery.
On the other hand, explanation of and confirmation by experience
is a highly technical matter and not only much more than, but
very different from, "reduction to observable thing-predicates."
Science does not "reduce" to "observation predicates" and "proto-
col sentences," but to highly technical terms like 'it-mesons, the
space-time continuum, the nucleoprotein helix, the expanding or
steady-state universe, and the rest, with the laws applying to such
entities-things connected with naive experience only by way of
a formidable mathematical and logical machine.
A consequence of this is that science mirrors only certain aspects
of experience, to the exclusion of others. What we call scientific
experience is a small sector of experience, and not only or neces-
204 Scientism and Values
sarily the exclusive and best one. It is chosen for a certain pur-
pose, nam.ely, theoretical description and practical control of
nature. What is called "an observed fact" is a certain aspect
isolated from the stream of experience for certain intellectual pur-
suits,.
Hence, not only vernacular language, but even science contains
a cultural and linguistic bias. For example, the thinking in terms
of "substances" and "attributes" is connected with the subject-
attribute syntax of Indo-Germanic languages, as Benjamin Whorf
has emphasized. This, in turn, colors our scientific world picture.
An excellent example is the notion and theory of ether, introduced
because there should be something that "oscillates," and so is the
substratum of electromagnetic waves. Only slowly is this bias of
language and culture-bound categories eliminated in the process
of the deanthropomorphization of science,2 achieved, in this. par-
ticular instance, by the theory of relativity.
For similar reasons, our physics is concerned with so-called
primary qualities., which are conveniently treated with our sort of
mathematics. Secondary qualities are eliminated in the physical
world picture even though they are not less "real" in immediate
experience. It is quite conceivable that intelligent beings with
other biological and cultural categories of understanding would
develop forms of mathematics (i.e., deductive systems) quite dif-
ferent from our "science of quantities," and consequently other
forms of "physics." Even "\vithin our own biases, unorthodox
branches of mathematics, such as mathematical logic, topology, and
group theory, show the possibility of such developments., being
concerned with "order" (a tremendous problem in biology, psy-
chology, etc.) rather than "measurable quantities."
As opposed to positivism, a sounder view appears to be what
may be called perspectivism.
3
Cultural efforts from science to the
arts are different symbolic universes elaborated to catch certain
aspects of reality, whatever the latter term may mean. The
scientific world picture is one of these perspectives, most useful
for constructing a theoretical world view as well as for techno-
logical control of nature, but not the only one possible, nor one
exhausting reality.
The Psychopathology of Scientism 205
2. Scientism in Theory and Practice
In his classical essay, Hayek 4 characterized scientism by three
basic concepts:
1. Objectivislll, i.e., the contention that the methods of natural
science are the only way of knowledge and that all phenomena
must be ultimately expressed in "physical language";
2. Collectivism, i.e., what we may call the application of per-
sonificative fictions (Vaihinger) to social phenomena, treating
them as if they were concrete, organism-like objects and wholes;
3. Historicism, i.e., the contention following from this point
of view that laws of social and historical events can be discovered
which are similar in structure to the laws in natural science.
Thus scientism, according to Hayek, is the misapplication of
the method of natural science in realms where it does not belong.
Hayek's study was written in the early forties. At the time of
WTiting, scientism was largely a theoretical problem and offered
a utopian program. Today, it has become a fact and hence poses
before us practical problems of paramount importance. It is, there-
fore, proposed to start the present study where Hayek left of£.5
Condorcet,6 writing before the French Revolution, contended
that man and human society should be studied with the methods
of the natural sciences and in the way we study the societies of
beavers and bees.Condorcet's postulate and prophecy were ful-
filled with a vengeance. We do not only theoretically describe
man and society in this way in recent developments of the be-
havioral sciences. We also make human society ever more resemble
that of beavers and bees.
In rereading Hayek's study, one can see immediately some basic
changes which have occurred since the 1940's.
For example, Hayek 7 noted "scarcity of capital" as the "most
fundamental economic fact." Today in America the most funda-
mental economic fact appears to be "Ending is better than mend-
ing," 8 that is, to keep an economy of abundance going by artificial
means such as hidden persuaders, psychological obsolescence,
9
and the like.
206 Scientism and Values
In the earlier technological age, Ostwald's "energetic impera-
tive" to use energy so as to achieve maximum effect with mini-
mum energy-expense was a fair statement of the aims of physical
engineering. Modern psychological engineering is essentially based
upon the principle of waste, of which any chromium-laden, over-
powered, long-finned, once-a-year traded-in car is an example.
Again, the "dislike which our whole generation shows for all
commercial activities" and for the "merchant" 10 is now countered
by the cultural emphasis on the salesman in prestige and in
monetary reward.
A final quote from Hayek's book may be interesting: "Not only
the ancient languages were reduced to a minimum and in practice
almost entirely neglected, even the instruction in literature,
drama, and history was very inferior, and moral and religious in-
struction, of course, completely absent." 11 This reads like an
excerpt from an editorial published in the post-Sputnik debate
on American education. As a matter of fact, it is a description of
the school reform of 1795 in revolutionary France shortly after the
Reign of Terror.
Hayek was well aware that scientism leads to "conscious plan-
ning of social phenomena." However, at this time he could refer
only to political ,and social engineering and, in particular, econo-
mic planning,12 which latter he analyzed in his The Road. to
Serfdom. Since he wrote his study the new development of
"human engineering" has emerged. The phenomena of "mass
man," "organization man," "hidden persuaders," baby's education
and sexual intercourse directed by how-to-do books available at
the corner drugstore, and a variety of others, are all corollaries to
this theme. The criticism, against scientism does not appear to be
any longer that it is a misapplication of science in fields where it
does not belong; rather, in recent years scientists have become
only too competent in behavioral and social science and in their
technological application. The following discussion suggests a
few consequences arising from this fact. The scientistic credo can
roughly be summarized as follows:
Our knowledge of the laws of physics is excellent, and con-
sequently our technological control of inanimate nature is almost
T he Psychopathology of Scientism 207
without limit. Our knowledge of biological laws is not so far ad-
vanced, but it is sufficient to allow a large amount of biological
technology in modern medicine and applied biology. Our knowl-
edge of the laws of human behavior and of society is still un-
developed. Consequently, human and sociological technology
lag behind physical and biological technology. If we had a well-
developed science of human behavior and society and a corre-
sponding technology, this would mean the way out of the personal,
sociological, and political problems of our time.
3. Scientism and Science
It seems, however, that the scientistic attitude is apt to lead
to the destruction of a free society and of science itself. We shall
start with a few considerations regarding the second aspect.
Science in the European tradition was a calling elected by a
minority of gifted individuals. Today it is becoming a job among
others, and much less profitable than t h o ~ e of the used-car dealer
or fashion model.13 The lack of prestige s well as of financial re-
ward for the scientist, and particularly the so-called basic scientist,
conceivably leads to a negative selection and hence a progressive
decrease in the stature of the individuals engaged in it.
Connected with this is the often complained of, but never acted
upon, overemphasis on applied as compared to basic science. Vir-
tually all the achievements of technology were an upshot of basic
research unconcerned with practical applications. Hertz's electro-
magnetic experim,ents eventually leading to radio and television,
the highly speculative theory of the atom leading to atomic bombs,
Mendel's experimentation in his cloister garden leading to a re-
form of agriculture are well-known examples. If, however, the
applied scientist in atomic energ"y, electronics, or medicine com-
mands considerably higher earnings .and prestige than the physi-
cist, chemist, or biologist, we may expect fewer new discoveries
and ideas in science. Eventually further progress in technology
will frustrate itself when the store of basic science is technologi-
cally exhausted and bases for new developments fail to be added.
Connected with this is the "mechanization" and "organization"
208 Scientism and Values
of science. Science in the old tradition first formulated a problem
and then looked for machinery necessary for its investigation, often
by way of improvisation; and in the last decades in Europe a tiny
budget has been the most important limiting factor. Today the
tendency is widely reversed. First there is a complicated and ex-
pensive machine; then let's think what we are going to do with it.
Accordingly, funds for buildings, apparatus, technical help, etc.,
are nearly unlimited; funds for brains .are very hard to find.
Similar considerations apply to "organization" in science. Here
we find the mystical belief in the "group" or "team" asa means
of unprecedented scientific progress. A group of specialists trained
in the same or different fields is an excellent instrument for certain
,veIl-definable research development purposes; namely, to elabo-
rate and test a given research or technological program, say, to find
the best shape for an ICBM or to test thousands of chemicals to
discover whether one of them will prove to be a cure for cancer.
The group, however, is. singularly ineffective in inaugurating
new scientific developments. Hardly one example is known in the
history of science where a "team" has established new principles.
14
History rather shows that major advances and breakthroughs in
science have resulted from the often capricious and irrational brain
waves of gifted individuals which only subsequently were proved,
formalized, and systematized in the accredited ways of science, usu-
ally (and quite legitimately) encountering considerable resistance
on the part of the profession at the beginning.
Although it is possible to pool capable individuals, their work,
and the results obtained, the expectation that a scientific team is
more creative than the sum of its members rests on the metaphysi-
cal belief that a social group has a "mind" or "spirit" excelling
that of the component individuals. There is no foundation for,
and many facts against, such a belief.
These and other factors lead to a progressive levelling in science
-a phenomenon which is by no means a new discovery, but well-
known and a matter of grave concern to its leaders.
These developments further lead to the decay of what is known
as academic freedom.
I5
The present discussion is not concerned
with such limitations of scientific communication as may be neces·
The Psychopathology of Scientism 209
sary for reasons of national security, but solely with infringement
in matters without political implication.
Established over many centuries, the freedom of thought, re-
search, and communication has been an unshakeable basis of mod-
ern science. Encroachments. on this freedom, such as Galileo's trial
before the Roman Inquisition, are abhorrent examples even after
centuries have gone by. Academic freedom remained unhampered
even if a scientist were in violent opposition to the ruling political
system. For example, during the time of blackest reaction after the
Congress of Vienna, the expulsion of seven professors from the
University of Goettingen because of their political views caused
an outcry of horror all over Germany and Europe. Virchow,
founder of pathological anatomy, fought at the barricades in the
revolution of 1848 and consequently was suspended by the Univer-
sity of Berlin, which, as are all European universities, was a gov-
ernmental institution. However, after two weeks public opinion
forced the government to reinstate him. After six months he be-
came head of the first department of pathological anatomy in his-
tory, later to become the famous Geheimrat} medical pope of
Germany, and leader of the opposition against Bismarck.I
6
Control of responsible investigators by innumerable committees,
administrative authorities, financial agencies, journals, etc., was
unknown up to recent times. It would deserve serious study
whether the "space lag," the " ~ i s s i l e gap," and many other much
discussed "lags" and "gaps" are not connected with the several
factors mentioned.
These are various aspects of what Riesman called the "other-
directedness" of modern man, including the scientist. It leads to
distrust in personal responsibility, dominance of the "group," en-
croachment on academic freedom and the bureaucratization of
science which hardly provide a "climate for basic research." 17
4. Scientism and Society
Oswald Spengler has become a sort of bogey among modem sci-
entific philosophers and historians, and his Decline of the West 18
a paragon of ill-founded and objectionable speculation. The pres-
210 Scientism and Values
ent writer does not quite share this opinion and does not feel
compelled to change the views he expressed thirty-five years ago.
19
He agrees that Spengler's intuitive method, his. presumptuous atti-
tude, errors in fact and in interpretation are subject to serious
criticism.
However, stripped of the poetic embroidery (which forms part
of the fascination of Spengler's work compared to the verbose te-
diousness in much recent philosophy), Spengler's doctrine is sim-
ply an attempt to explain history by way of a theoretical model.
That he arrived at this conception in an objectionable, intuitive,
and romantic way proves as little against it as Kepler's laws are
disproved by the historical fact that Kepler found them, not, by
way of what we consider sound scientific method, but 'rather by
fantastic neoplatonic speculations.
Spengler's model has to be judged by the same criteria that
apply to any model in science. It will be found that this model is
objectionable in many respects., but also that it has explanatory
and predictive ~ a l u e . This is not a contradiction, but a property
shared by many models· even in the more orthodox branches of
science.
Some objections to Spengler are apparent.
1. The basic question is whether a limited number of cultures
past and present (eight with Spengler, some twenty with Toynbee)
at all allows generalizations or supposed laws of history. This es-
sentially corresponds with Hayek's criticism of the "historicism"
of the scientistic attitude, and with Rickert's distinction between
the "nomothetic" method of natural science and the "ideographic"
method of history.
2. Another objection is against the comparison of "cultures"
with "organisms." Trivially, an individual organism circumscribed
in space and time is different from a social group consisting of in-
dividual conscious persons. However, communities, be they bio-
logical or social, can be considered, if not as "superorganisms,"
then as "systems," that is, collectives of elements standing in inter-
action, and laws of social systems are in order, as evidenced by
mathematical biology, economics, social sciences, etc.
20
This is not
ascientistic misuse so long as' theoretically the limitations of such
The Psychopathology of Scientism 211
models and consequent over-all laws are borne in mind, and so
long as practically they are not used as a tool to make human
community into a "society of beavers or bees."
3. Even if the organismic analogy were accepted, Spengler's as-
sumption of a rigid life-span and timetable of cultural develop-
ment cannot be maintained; even legitimate organisms, animals
and plants, of the same species vary greatly in this respect. Toyn-
bee has justly abandoned this Spenglerian assumption. The frills
of T'oynbee's doctrine, such as the theory of challenge and re-
sponse and his eschatological views., are hardly less gratuitous (and
much less dramatic) than Spengler's metaphysical romanticism.
4. Spengler'S contention that cultures are "organisms" uncon-
nected with each other is patently incorrect. The survival and in-
heritance by newer cultures of what has been achieved in the past
is obvious. Our Western civilization, in particular, patently dif-
fers from previous ones in its global character as compared to the
geographic limitations of the former.
These basic objections as well as factual criticism in detail have
to be taken for granted. However, the criterion of verification of
any model in science is whether predictions derived from it are
confirmed by experience. Irrespective of the defects of Spengler'S
method and model, many derivations from it appear to be dis-
quietingly correct. This does not imply a predestined doom, but
rather a warning signal; much in the same way as, with respect to
a human individual, the life-span is not predestined, and illness
terminating it may be controlled by timely diagnosis and thera-
peutic measures.
Spengler's "Decline" stems, of course, from Nietzsche's concept
of nihilis;m, that is, the devaluation of traditional values. Spengler
himself described the phenomenon as a Time of Trouble, inter-
necine wars, dictatorships, formation of an uprooted fellaheen
society, and progressing statism. Toynbee 21 similarly speaks of a
Time of Troubles and redoubtable Universal States. Ortega y
Gasset
22
calls the same phenomenon "the Uprise of the Masses,"
emphasizing demographic pressure as its cause. David Riesman 23
speaks of the "other-directed crowd" of our time compared to the
"inner-directedness" of other periods. W. H. Whyte 24 describes
212
Scientism and Values
the conformity achieved by "Organization Man" and the modern
"deification of the organization"; Boulding 25 similarly identifies
the problems posed by the "Organizational Revolution." Hof-
fer's 26 "True Believer" is craving for authority at any price in
order to fill his emotional vacuum. Each of these descriptions may
be objectionable; but it seems there is a basic phenomenon labelled
in different ways.
Apparently, "scientism" plays, a predominant role in this develop-
ment. Superficially, the scientistic character of Western "civiliza-
tion" (the term used in the technical sense proposed by Spengler)
is caused by a prevalence of science and technology unparalleled in
past cultures. The machine, instead of saving labor, becomes man's
master, making him an automaton and small wheel in the great
mechanism. However, the problem has become much more subtle
in America and parts of Europe. Automation and related develop-
ments tend to save man from becoming a slave of the machine and
will undoubtedly do so even more in the future. The problem
appears to be shifting from physical to psychological technology,
making the basic question: Is a scientifically controlled society de-
sirable? In Hayek's terms, "collectivism" now is not a theoretical,
but a practical, issue; the fictitious entities characteristic of the
scientistic approach have become more "real" and powerful than
in any other period.
Conditioned-reflex methods, "hidden persuaders," "brainwash-
ing," subliminal motivation, and allied techniques form the basis
of psychological coercion and control unknown in previous history.
Hayek has made it- clear that this problem, was recognized by
early positivists: Comte already foresaw, even though he derided,
a "despotism founded on science." 27
Absolutism, authoritarianism, and demagogues are phenomena
ubiquitous in history. However, coercion imposed from outside,
be it ever so ruthless,' necessarily breeds rebels, nonconformists,
and heretics, as they have existed in all times of history. Dictators
can be disposed of and, as a matter of historical record, usually
come to a bad end. Only coercion from inside and by psychological
means can impos,e total control. Replacing old-fashioned rhetoric
T he Psychopathology of Scientism 213
and appe.al to limited numbers, modern psychological techniques
have made this method scientific, all-inclusive, and nearly infal-
lible.
It appears to matter little whether this totalitarianism is essen-
tially benevolent, as in Huxley's Brave New World" or malevolent,
as in Orwell's 1984; or, speaking in realistic and nonutopian terms,
whether hidden persuaders are employed democratically to pro-
mote a washing machine or a politician, or autocratically to ensure
the reign of a dictator. For it is more than probable that methods
used for inconsequential advertising can and will be employed for
the deification of the state, the nation, its leader, or for global war
as those in charge desire.
There is a neologism which was introduced after the war,
namely, Hgenocide," meaning, according to the Oxford dictionary,
"extermination of a race." I submit that a similar term, "menti-
cide," 28 be adopted, meaning extermination of the individual
mind. As a matter of fact, extermination of a race is hard to
achieve. The scars in the body social heal rapidly, owing to its re-
generative capacity. Thus, in spite of the large-scale genocide of
the last World War, the Malthusian problem of an overpopulated
planet becomes more menacing every day.
Menticide, in contrast, is irreversible and irreparable. It is the
stultification of the human race, its progressive reduction to autom-
atons or morons by mass media and psychological techniques.
At this point, the psychiatric ,and criminological question arises:
Why, at a time when the Hgreatest happiness of the greatest num-
ber" with respect to material comfort is achieved as never before
in history, is society beset with an equally unprecedented menace
of mental disorder and criminality?
The orthodox and, at first, plausible answer is that the heavy
and manifold stresses imposed in our complicated society are re-
sponsible. Nevertheless, the theory is demonstrably untrue. For
example, World War II, the stress of which certainly was extreme,
as it endangered not only social amenities and values, but bio-
logical survival, did not lead to an increase of either neuroses 29 or
psychoses.
3o
On the other hand, under conditions of economic opu-
214 Scientism and Values
lence unparalleled in history one out of twenty Americans is
doomed to become mentally ill, and more than half of the hospital
population are mental cases.
31
It would appear that mental dis-
order, in the form both of mental illness and delinquency, is the
reverse of, and the price society has to pay for, scientifically
granted comfort and conformity.
The hypothesis can well be defended (and is in no way new)
that not the stress, but rather the emptiness, of life is one decisive
factor in the increase of mental disorder.
32
One may say that "nihil-
ism," 33 the breakdown of a symbolic universe of values, and the
conflicts between Riesman's other-directedness and individual re-
sistance may lead to conflicts manifest in mental disorders. One
may also say that the rootlessness of modern man (what Spengler
called the fellaheen) is apt to lead to deradication neurosis" a well-
known psychiatric disturbance. Again, the defense mechanisms
manifest in neurosis and psychosis 34 may become active, not be-
cause outside stress is intolerable, but rather because the psycho-
physical organism is weakened, its, immanent activity reduced; and
inner emptiness and outer enforcement combine to create the con-
ditions for mental illness. Well-known laboratory experiments
with sensory deprivation,35 prisoner's psychosis, and related phe-
nomena tend to support such hypotheses. This is not the place to
discuss the merits or shortcomings of these particular formulations.
What they amount to is that "culture," among many other things,
is an important psychohygienic factor.
Similar considerations apply to criminality. Juvenile delin-
quency, for example, is easily explainable under conditions of
poverty, devastation, broken homes, and the like. But it is a dis-
turbing phenomenon that the rate of juvenile delinquency is lower
in poor Italy than in the wealthy United States. As a psychiatrist
expressed it, before a Senate Committee:
It is our distinct impression that particularly crimes of violence have
increased tremendously, that such ... acts of seemingly unmotivated
violence, as you see them in wolf-packs and such, are really almost a
novel phenomena. That form of gang organization, of violence for
T he Psychopathology of Scientism 215
violence's sake is something new that has been added ... and there
is an increased toleration of brutality and violence, even of the so-
called normal adolescent or person.
36
Apparently when there is an eruption against boredom and
the emptiness of life, crime is one outlet, not in the form of crime
for want or of passion, but for the fun of it. The classical Leopold-
Loeb case characteristically stands at about the beginning of this
era.
Conclusion
The diagnosis of the ills of our society appears clear enough.
The therapy we do not know, and the present author does not
belong to the world-saviors who have invented the nostrum for
curing humanity.
In view of the question of scientism, its basic defect can readily
be summarized. It is the mistaken belief that science, scientific
method, and technology with its achievements for human comfort
cover the whole of human experience and fulfillm,ent. This pat-
ent!y not being the case, and nothing else filling the vacuum, the
scientistic disappointment is the necessary consequence. An intel-
lectual vacuum being left, it is no wonder that our time of tech-
nology and scientism is also the time of pseudo religions and prim-
itive superstitions. This is true for the pseudo religions invented
by the founders of positivism and scientism, Comte and Saint-
Simon, as well as for astrology, nationalism, the various ways of
escapism, semi-Christian sects, and others, of our time. Even tra-
ditional religions become pseudo religions when, as stated by Billy
Graham,37
The church in this country has the highest membership it has ever
had, but the country also has the highest crime and divorce rate and
the greatest increase in juvenile delinquency in history.
Or else, as Aldous Huxley has foreseen, the greatest happiness
of the greatest number in a scientistic Brave New World can be
216 Scientism and Values
maintained by doping. This is largely borne out by this period's
subsistence on tranquilizers and allied psychotropic drugs.
38
It is worthwhile to note that the error of scientism was com-
mitted by the positivists from Bacon to Comte to our time, but
was not shared by the founders of pragmatism. William James'
Varieties of Religious Experience is an everlasting document in
this, respect.
Scientism did not recognize, and helped actively to suppress, an
enormous and all-important part of human experience. Thus, it
made "Organization Man" into a society of "beavers and bees." 39
This is a consequence of the fact that scientism cannot provide a
basis for the uniqueness of human individuality and values. In
a reappraisal of the latter will be the clue to the future.
NOTES
I. F. A. Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science (Glencoe: Free Press,
1952), pp. 14 and 123.
2. L. von Bertalanffy, "Philosophy of Science in Scientific Education,"
Scientific Monthly, LXXVII (1953), 233-239.
3. L. von Bertalanffy, "An Essay on the Relativity of Categories," Phi-
losophy of Science, XXII (1953), 243-263.
4. Hayek, Ope cit.
5. The present paper was prepared before reading A. Huxley's Brave New
World Revisited (New York: Harper, 1958), where many similar re-
flections can be found.
6. Hayek, Ope cit., p. 108.
7. Ibid., p. 97.
8. A. Huxley, Brave New World (New York: Harper, 1932).
9. H. O. Packard, The Hidden Persuaders (New York: McKay, 1957).
10. Hayek, Ope cit., p. 96.
II. Ibid., pp. 109 f.
12. Ibid., pp. 94 ff.
13. Since documentation of this point was desired, the writer refers to a
discussion in Time magazine (March 24, 1958).
14. Cf. T. J. (editorial), "Two Heads Better Than One?" Science, CXXVII
(1958), 933.
15. Cf. P. I. Lazarsfeld and W. Thielens, Jr., The Academic Mind: Social
Scientists in a Time of Crisis (1959).
16. E. H. Ackerknecht, RudolPh Virchow, Doctor, Statesman, Anthropologist
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1953).
17. D. W. Bronk, "The Climate for Basic Research" (Presentation at Sym-
posium: The Structure of Science, Wistar Institute, Philadelphia, April
17-18, 1959).
The Psychopathology of Scie·ntism 217
18. O. Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes (Rev. ed.; Muenchen:
Beck, 1922).
19. L. von Bertalanffy, "Einfuehrung in Spengler's Werk," Literaturblatt der
Koelnischen Zeitung (May, 1924).
20. Cf., for example: General Systems. Yearbooks of the Society for General
Systems ed. by L. von Bertalanffy and A. Rapaport (Ann
Arbor: University of Michigan, 1956 et. seq.).
21. A. J. Toynbee, A Study of History (abridged ed.; New York and
London: Oxford University Press, 1947).
22. J. Ortega y Gasset, The Revolt of the Masses (New York: Norton Be Co.,
1932).
23. D. Riesman, The Lonely Crowd (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1950).
24. W. H. Whyte, The Organization Man (New York: Simon & Schuster,
1956).
25. K. E. Boulding, The Organizational Revolution (New York: Harper,
1953).
26. E. Hoffer, The True Believer (New York: Harper, 1951).
27. Hayek, Ope pp. 139, 183, 200, and passim.
28. The term was introduced and similarly explained by J. A. M. Meerloo,
"Pavlovian Strategy as a Weapon of Menticide," American Journal of
CX (1954), 809-813.
29. M. K. Opler, Psychiatry and Human Values (Springfield, Ill.:
Thomas, 1956), pp. 67 f.
30. F. Llavero, uBemerkungen zu einigen Grundfragen der Psychiatrie," etc.,
Der XXVIII (1957), 419-421.
31. Cf., for example: M. Gorman, Every Other Bed (World Pub!., 1956).
According to R. Fein, Economics of Mental Illness (New York: Basic
Books, 1958), the costs per year for care of the mentally ill in the United
States are estimated to exceed 1.7 billion dollars, indirect costs adding
to some 2.7 billion dollars. "It has been shown that where services for
the mentally ill are relatively highly developed, psychiatric cases account
for almost half the total number of patients occupying hospital beds;
moreover, it was estimated in one country that about one-third of all
hospital outpatients attended for reasons that were largely psycho-
logical." (The Mental Health Programme of the World Health Organi-
1949-1957. Geneva: WHO Inti Ment/5.)
32. Cf. L. von Bertalanffy, "Some Biological Considerations on the Problem
of Mental Illness," Bulletin Menninger XXIII (1959), 41-51.
33. L. von Bertalanffy, "Human Values in a Changing World," New Knowl-
edge in Human edited by A. H. Maslow (New York: Harper,
1959), pp. 65-74.
34. K. Menninger, with H. Ellenberger, P. Pruyser and M. Mayman, "The
Unitary Concept of Mental Illness," Bulletin Menninger XXII
(1958), 4-12.
35. Cf., for example, D. Bindra in J. H. Tanner and B. Inhelder, ed.,
Discussions on Child II (London: Tavistock, 1957).
36. F. J. Hacker, in Juvenile Delinquency (Hearings before the Subcommit·
218 Scientism and Values
tee ... U. S. Senate, Pursuant S. Res. 62; Washington: U. S. Printing
Office, June 15-18, 1955), p. 99.
37. Los Angeles Times} June 5, 1958.
38. It is estimated that in 1956, 48 million prescriptions for tranquilizers
were filled in the United States at a cost of approximately $200 million.
39. It is perhaps no accident that the late Professor Kinsey originally was
an entomologist, studying insect societies. K. Menninger, "One View of
the Kinsey Report" (GP} VIII [December, 1953], 67-72), justly notes
"Kinsey's compulsion to force human sexual behavior into a zoological
frame of reference." As stated by Menninger, from this he derives the
identification of the "normal" with the "statistically frequent." The
"Volunteer Error in the Kinsey Study," tested by A. H. Maslow and
J. M. Sakoda, Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology} XLVII, 259-
262, probably is responsible for the difference between the clinicians'
experience and the Kinsey data as stated by Menninger.
11
Social Science Vetsus the Obsession
of
ROBERT STRAusz-HuPE
I
A discussion of the scientific study of man and society calls
for answers to the following questions: First, what properties per-
taining to man and society are the proper subjects of scientific
inquiry? What are the appropriate scientific methods for obtaining
valid insights into the social process.? And what precisely can these
scientific methods and the insights which they vouchsafe tell us
about the future development of society and about possible alter-
natives among which we are free to choose?
The idea that human society can be studied as methodically as
any object in nature engaged the disinterested and scientific curi-
osity of the Greeks. In his history, Herodotus set out to study all
branches of humanity irrespective of race and cultural level. He
takes people as he finds them, held together by nothing but space
and. time. Herodotus, by his superior impartiality, looks, so to
speak, from outside in. In his thought, the phenomenon of uni-
versal humanity is as susceptible to objective investigation as is the
course of celestial bodies or the consistency of earth and water. Of
religious experience, Herodotus does not speak. For Herodotus,
the unity of mankind consists of identities or similarities of be-
219
220 Scientism and Values
havior, and not of a superior meaning derived from a unitary faith
and fate.
This is not the place to assess how successful Herodotus was in
keeping metaphysics out of his universal history and to what ex-
tent his value judgments did infiltrate into his superior impartial-
ity. What matters here is his conception of secular historiography
and his methodical separation of consciousness and its object, of
man-observing and man-observed. Two thousand years after He-
rodotus the problem of objectivity was still to trouble social
scientists.
The question of objectivity in the exploration of social phe-
nomena can be stated as follows: What is it that we can know
about other men, irrespective of the uniqueness of our personal-
ity, which at once embraces the experience of mankind through-
out the ages and is kin to all men living and dead, and yet is bio-
logically finite and cast in the mold of a unique and more or less
transitory society, i.e., irrespective of the insoluble dilemma: the
brotherhood of man and the terrible isolation of mortal man? As
long as humanism and the social sciences walked hand in hand,
social scientists saw no need of dispensing with the common bond
of humanity as the datum point of their investigations. They knew
(or believed they knew) other men because they themselves thought
and felt like the subject of their investigations; they knew (or be-
lieved they knew) what made society go around because they them-
selves were members of that society, observers, so to speak, in the
hands of their own observation. The link between the social sci-
ences and the humanities was broken by the impact of science
upon society as well as upon political and social philosophy.
With the efflorescence, about a hundred and fifty years ago, of
the natural sciences, there began a new phase in the long quest of
the social sciences for objectivity, for reality. Social scientists now
attempted to equate social processes with natural processes and
consequently to apply the methodology of the natural sciences to
their universe of discourse. It has been overlooked for a long time
how much the popularity and political influence of positivism and
materialism owed to circumstance and coincidence rather than to
Social Science Versus the 0 bsession of UScientism" 221
the aptness of their respective scientific apparatus. Not a few lead-
ers of these schools of thought and their sectarian offspring, such
as, for example, Saint-Simon, Comte, Hackel, and Pareto, were
intellectuals who had been attracted to the natural sciences, had
failed to make their mark in pure or applied science, and found
their way into the social sciences, prophets in another land. F. A.
Hayek, in his Counter-Revolution of traced the influence
upon nineteenth-century sociology and political science of Auguste
Comte, an engineer who, instead of practicing his craft, theorized
on social engineering. He fathered a long line of mechanistic uto-
pias of society, pedantic, insensitive, and inhuman. There was not
then-and there is not now-a sustained and fruitful participation
by natural scientists in the pursuit of political and social studies.
There was then-and there is now-a lively traffic between their
least competent colleagues, many of whom made their living as
literary popularizers of science, and social scientists.
The methods of the natural sciences were introduced into the
social sciences in a haphazard way and often by hands far from
highly skilled in either branch of learning. It is not surprising that
not a few natural scientists came to look down upon their col-
leagues at the other end of the academic edifice. At the same time,
the impact of science upon society not only brought about those
many and profound changes which make up the story of progress,
but also altered significantly the status relationship of academic
disciplines. The physicist and the chemist, not the sociologist and
the economist, have become the symbolic figures of the age. The
response of the social sciences to the plight of academic, if not
social, inferiority was to embrace all the more fervently the scien-
tific methodology tout court) namely, the methodology of the nat-
ural sciences. To be sure, there were "objective" arguments in
favor of chucking out the old tools and importing techniques that
had so fabulously enriched human knowledge and, in the bargain,
given man such vast powers over nature. But the prestige factor
stood-and still much. Science is not only a pursuit;
it is also a distinctive posture that commands popular deference far
beyond its own domain.
222' :, Scientism and Values
II
The observations. above should not be taken as implying the
rejection of the methods. of the natural sciences as, wholly irrele-
vant or inapplicable to the study of social phenomena. Scientific
method is applicable to all fields of study. It is, however, conceiv-
able, and highly probable, that the specific methods of the natural
sciences do not, and cannot, encompass the range of social phe-
nomena and will, in some crucial respects, produce results that are
as meaningless scientifically as they are harmful humanly and so-
cially. In brief, the social sciences cannot be expected to do for
society what the natural sciences have done for nature until they
have developed their own (and not somebody else's) methodology
and defined their proper data and criteria of truth, the truth that
it is theirs to seek.
As theory, pure science is concerned with the reduction of di-
versity to identity and thus to order. Practical scientific research is
concerned with simplification. It is tempting to apply these meth-
ods to the theory and practice of politics. Indeed, it can be argued
that a centralized .authority bent on making plans for an entire
society must, because of the bewildering complexity of the data,
proceed as does the scientific investigator who arbitrarily reduces
the variables of his problem in order to make it manageable. This
is the proper laboratory procedure.
But when applied to the problems of human society, the process
of simplification, pushed to its logical conclusion, must lead, in
theory, to the deletion of those unique and imponderable factors
-nuances, if you will-which endow life with zest, flavor, and
creativity, and, in practice, to the repression of diversity and thus
to tyranny. Indeed, not a few modern dictatorships have sought
to derive the warrant for their authority from the alleged precepts
of science and to contrive a more or less successful synthesis of
official ideologies and modern science. National socialism, al-
though it did not profess to be a "science," rewarded handsomely
those academic toadies who brought "scientific" proof for Hitler's
bizarre and spiteful theories on genetics. Marxian socialism does
Social Science Versus the 0 bsession of "Scientism" 223
profess to be a science. It has found, in the dominant philosophy of
the scientific community, monism, a powerful intellectual and
political ally. Nowadays scientific pretension rather than the pro-
fession of ethical beliefs screens the power urge. This. tendency
has led to a progressive devaluation of politic.al ideologies and the
rise of the universal ideology of the age, scientism. Scientism has
swept all before it, and all the political ideologies. of our times
purport to be scientific. They are, in fact, scientistic. The problem
of totalitarianism is the reduction of human diversity to uniform-
ity. It is quite natural that all totalitarian philosophies appeal to
the precedents of 'laboratory procedure, for this procedure bestows
respectability upon the ironing out of individual idiosyncrasies.
To simplify reality is to abstract. The scientist, confronted by
the data of experience, prescinds from a problem those aspects
which are not susceptible to measurement and to causal explana-
tion. His purpose is to explain the phenomenon in terms of causa-
tion, not of purpose, intention, and values.
l
Pragmatically, such
arbitrary abstraction is. justified. The progress of modern science
has been due to its rigorous confinement to the measurable ,aspects
of elements of experience which are contained in a causal system.
But science does not encompass nor does it profess to encompass all
human experience. Science seeks to approximate the truth about
the world only within the limitations of specific and rigorously de-
fined contexts. No true scientist will claim more; no educated lay-
man should expect more. Yet the vulgarization of science--scien-
tism-has led many people, including not a few scientists, who
have lost sight of the philosophical foundations of their craft, to
assert that science holds the key to all problems of human experi-
ence and that those problems that cannot be dealt with by sim-
plification or abstraction are either trivial problems or no prob-
lems at all.
The blight of scientism has spread in all sectors of modem life.
It has made its most consequential and dangerous inroads in the
field of politics. In the arsenal of demagoguery, scientism is the
most powerful secret ideological weapon. The demand of the po-
litical market for scientific rationalization is great; great are the
rewards of the political scientist who will supply it. Thus, for
224 Scientism and Values
example, complex international problems can he swept conveni-
ently under the rug by reducing international relations to eco-
nomic equations: by assisting the underdeveloped countries eco-
nomically, the giver wins, if not their good will, then at least a
measure of toleration and, in the bargain, fosters the growth of
democracy, which, it is alleged, is correlated closely with the rise
of average standards of living. By ignoring unwieldy cultural fac-
tors and deep-seated antagonisms to Western peoples and values,
one simplifies the problem of, let us say, India's place in what is
called euphemistically the "free world": the West, by adding just
the right amount of investment capital to India's government..
directed economic development, can secure the survival, in India,
of parliamentary government and, in world politics, assist India
in becoming a counterweight to Red China. Proposals for such a
Western "policy" toward India are loaded with eye-filling and vig..
orously formulated statistics. The trouble with this neat solution
-which, in the context of scientific economics, is perfectly plausi-
ble-is that the soul of India is. not the soul of America, that Indi-
ans cannot be equated with Chinese on the basis of per capita
economic productivity, and that, strictly speaking, India is not a
nation.
III
Since the social sciences are concerned with human action, an
explanation of data can hardly be satisfying and valid unless it re-
lates "objective" social phenomena to human purpose, intention,
and values. This approach is understandably at odds with that of
the natural scientist. It is also at odds with the idea of a centrally
planned and, therefore, centrally controlled society. The obstacle
to centralized, "scientific" planning is individual idiosyncrasy; i.e.,
individual purpose, intention, and values. The most expeditious
way around this obstacle is to assert that individual purpose, inten-
tion, and values are scientifically irrelevant or trivial and impervi-
ous to measurement and, therefore, should be left out of account.
Likewise, it is argued that historical institutions, because they are
the traditional repository of purpose, intention, and values, are not
Social Science Versus the 0 bsession of UScientism" 225
proper fields of scientific inquiry. In sum, so the "scientific" propo-
sition runs, the social scientist should not concern himself with
what institutions areJ but with their operation, not with what men
are
J
but with their behavior as members of the group.
I do not propose here to examine the position of various schools
of behaviorism on what we know about man and society and the
relevancy of their findings for the social and "policy" sciences. The
behaviorists disagree among themselves on methods of measure-
ment and, more important still, the meaningfulness of the insights
produced by experiment. They appear agreed, however, on the
rejection of consciousness as a means for gaining insight into psy-
chological phenomena and on explaining human phenomena by
the measurement of observed behavior and in terms of a causal
system in which human consciousness is. not a factor.
2
For the pres-
ent purpose it suffices that, in this country, it is via behaviorist
psychology that the methods of the natural sciences exert their
strongest influence upon the social sciences. Let uS now examine
briefly the implications of the banishm.ent of consciousness-intro-
spection-and the reliance on measurement of behavior as the
most important, if not the sole, means for obtaining valid insights
in social processes.
To begin with, it should be obvious that, from the point of view
of the social sciences, human consciousness-introspection-would
have to be invented if it did not exist. Thus, for example, the
operation of the market would be inconceivable without introspec-
tion. Not only in the market place but also in the daily exchanges
of communal life we act on the assumption that other men think
as we do, and, therefore, will act as we will act. In the overwhelm-
ing majority of instances of daily life it is introspection, and not
our observation of other men's behavior, that guides our decisions
and triggers our action. The argument that our actIons are merely
conditioned reflexes and are not engendered by the workings of
our consciousness poses an intriguing language problem; it does
not add the slightest whiff of an operable concept to our theoreti-
cal framework. The fact is that we do assume that we know the
other fellow will behave in a manner which is given to us by in-
trospection. We may be wrong in this assumption. But we act on
226 Scientism and Values
it. And this assumption thus becomes. a scientific datum of the
social sciences. The circumstance that the data of the social sci-
ences consist of opinions true and false calls, for a discrete method-
ology which, although in many respects kindred to the methodolo-
gies of the natural sciences, must still stand upon its own feet and
stake out its own domain.
3
Social scientists who infer patterns of human conduct from in-
trospection, .and thus rely upon their own consciousness rather
than on the no less ambiguous appearance of "behavior," are
plainly making use of empirical facts. The progress of modern
economics would have been inconceivable without recourse to in-
trospective experience. "Anthropomorphism, rightly scorned in
the natural sciences. as prescientific metaphysics, is justified in eco-
nomics because economics is about human action." 4 Statistics has
its place in the social sciences as it has in any field of scientific in-
quiry. The question here is one of available data and of the sus-
ceptibility of available data to measurement rather than one of
methodology. Obviously, it would be intellectually satisfying if,
for example, political behavior could be measured in such a way
that the causal system of politics could be explained mathemati-
cally. As it is, the statistical tools are powerful, while the available
data are either scarce or dubious. Especially in politics a great
many more data will have to be collected before their accumulated
weight can engage profitably the generous capacity of statistical
mathematics. In this country cooperative research, heavily en-
dowed with zeal, faith in calculating machines, and tax-free funds,
has produced a vast literature on the regularities and irregularities
of the political animal. But it is doubtful that this earnest effort
has produced deeper insights than, let us say, Parkinson's more
entertaining investigations, which led him to deduce his famous
law.
5
To be sure, given the prevalent preDccupation with data-
gathering and grinding the data thus gathered into statistical con-
trivances, some progress will be made. But progress in this field
will not render measurable what is nonmetrical, i.e., what by its
very nature is unknowable through numbers.
It can be argued that reliance on behavioral analogies has led to
an alarming atrophy of the powers of introspection. Thus" for ex-
Social Science Versus the· Obsession of "Scientism" 227
ample, not a few Western statesmen are prone to act on the as-
sumption that, because a communist leader behaves on certain
occasions as such leaders are wont to do, he will prove a pre-
dictable and manageable quantity in every world political equa-
tion. Mr. Mikoyan eats and dresses as we do, smiles at more or
less corny jokes, and, intermittently, kisses babies before the
camera and cherishes. peace and the middle-class ideal of business
as usual. Since the average Soviet citizen displays a well-docu-
mented interest in electrical refrigerators and cars, the Soviet
rulers will seek to satisfy their demand for semidurable goods, cut
down on military hardware, and settle down to the status quo-
just as our statesmen would do were tIley in the Soviets' shoes.
These cliches reflect all that is most shallow in reliance on both
behavioral analogy and introspective analogy. Our "statesman,"
because he has abandoned an ethical position to empiricism, is
smitten with deafness to the voice of intuition and with blindness
to observable facts: he understands anything except the inwardness
of political conduct.
IV
The aesthetical element of experience is not susceptible to
measurement. Yet there is an intimate relation between aesthetics
and politics, hetween aesthetics and economics, and between aes-
thetics and morals. Artistic creativity and prevailing tastes. in paint-
ing, the plastic arts, literature, and music are indices of social sta-
bility and national power. These indices cannot be expressed in
numbers. Yet are they less relevant than, let us say, indices of coal,
steel, and uranium production? In brief, social scientists must be
concerned with man and his fate, man and his idiosyncrasies.
6
So-
cial scientists, too, are men. At the present stage of imperfection,
there is· but faint hope that we will be able to deduce from the
variety of experience mathematical laws and constants.
It is unscientific-or shall we say "scien.tistic"-to insist upon
applying the methods of the n.atural sciences categorically to the
fields of sociology, economics, and politics. The attempt to do so
not only does not advance research, but stultifies it. Yet without a
228 Scientism and Values
vigorous advance in the systematic scholarly techniques for ana-
lyzing and solving social problems, the increasing bewilderment of
modern men will elude rational treatment, and the concrete result
of so much well-me.aning effort and ink spilt will be merely an-
other nail-a rusty theoretical one-in the coffin of the old order
-the good and the bad of it-,-and not the establishment of a pre-
sumably better order. At no time in human history has there been
a more crying need for bringing the unsentimental scholarly out-
look to bear upon politics than now.
There is just a faint chance that we can do so before the destruc-
tive forces which now impinge upon the political and social struc-
ture of the Western world have done their work. We can discern
now on the intellectual horizon the rise, albeit faint, of a new
constellation: the growing awareness of policy-makers of the need
for a genuinely theoretical-not pseudoscientific-approach to pol-
itics and the progress toward the development of a pure political
theory, based on a firm grasp of human nature. In a way, the
bumptiousness of the scientific advanced by diverse "scien-
tistic" ideologies and their dismal, sometimes bloody failures to
redeem these claims have cleared the decks for the advent of the
true science of politics. The need for such a science of politics is
not a mere matter of academic concern. What is at stake is, in the
most literal sense, the survival of our civilization.
In one of its deepest meanings, the world crisis is a dispute
about political organization. Regardless of the historical roots of
the present conflict and of the contending philosophical concepts,
all existing· states are confronted by the need for reorganization.
Without such reorganization, the purpose, intentions, and values
of our society are untranslatable into those actions which must be
taken in order to defend it against the dangers from without and
the eroding forces from within. Such reorganization may have to
bear on fundamentals of the political structure; or it may call
for the realignment of existing institutions; or the existing insti-
tutions, sound as they may be, may require operational improve-
ments.
Whenever men talk politics, they argue, as a matter of course,
about personalities, the management of public institutions, the
Social Science Versus the 0 bsession of UScientism" 229
usefulness or obsolescence of existing establishments, and the re-
form of political and administrative machinery or the creation of
new machinery. The discussion of personalities slips easily into
emotive terms, and there is, in politics, a proper place for emotion.
Management and organizational structure, however, can be dis-
cussed llleaning£ully only upon the identification of problems, the
assembly of relevant facts, and the analysis of possible solutions. It
is one of the most significant symptoms of the world crisis that our
knowledge of public problems is either vague or generalized. At
best, the usefulness of our institutions is assessed in impressionistic
terms and, more often than not, the stated purpose of the institu-
tion, as, for example, the French Chamber of Deputies under the
Fourth Republic, is confused with its performance. Public interest
centers upon the generalized theory of an institution rather than
upon its reality, not to speak of its "organizational yield." Hence,
improvements are mostly guided by intuitive judgments and ac-
complished by accident.
The problem of reorganization is threefold. All societies require,
although in different degrees, reorganization in order to achieve
good government under modern conditions of technological
change, economic development, demographic growth, psychologi-
cal understanding, and human freedom. Most existing social and
political organizations represent some kind of compromise be-
tween traditional institutional concepts and the satisfaction of the
power urge. Neither the institutions nor their management satisfies
the requirements of efficient organization. Efficient organization is
not tantamount to good government. Organizational efficiencyand
political ethics are, however, interdependent variables. Good gov-
ernment is a contradictio in adjectQ without consideration of pur-
pose, intention, and values. "Good" government seeks to maximize
the "organizational yield" of public institutions.
Secondly, the various national or subnational societies have
broken out of their historic isolation. During the last hundred
years, nations and civilizations have become increasingly interde-
pendent. There is little doubt that this interdependence will con-
tinue to grow unless adverse economic and military developments
intervene. Consequently, it is necessary to find organizational
230 Scientzsm and Values
forms which will provide for the effective collaboration between
different societies that are dependent upon one another but lack
the commensurate psychological cohesion. This international
"growing together" requires a deepened understanding of insti-
tutional similarities and differences. Such understanding can be
derived only from sure methods of comparison. The actual process
of "growing together" requires guidance, hence the need for a
theory of institutional synthesis. In the absence of such a theory,
peoples will not be able to determine which institution should be
abandoned, enlarged, taken over, reformed or developed jointly,
and the process of "growing together" might be reversed into a
disorderly and dangerous melee.
Thirdly, the global ideological conflict would not be global ex-
cept for the circumstance that all members of humanity now have
become interrelated and can communicate virtually instantly with
one another. The leading societies are in disagreement about the
ways by which the world society is to be organized. This disagree-
ment is rendered acute by the fact that the contending arguments
are almost entirely irrational. Each contending ideology has its
own solution. We believe that our solution is the better one, and,
for diverse reasons, it probably is. But if actual events can supply
us guidance, we have not developed the methodogy for presenting
our arguments so effectively and rationally that they will invite
acceptance by all men-and, incidentally, considered and serene
acceptance by those who now accept them somewhat hesitantly on
faith. We hold strong opinions about political organization, but,
unfortunately, those notions are convincing only to ourselves and
to people who "think as we do." We cannot prove that we are
right, for-among other reasons-we have failed to work out our
self-evident criteria.
v
The purpose of political-organizational schemes, at least in so
far as they are stated to the public, is to achieve a higher degree
of freedom. The precise meaning of the term "freedom" is sub-
ject to argument. This argument will continue as, long as political
Social Science Versus the Obsession of "Scientism" 231
society exists, remains, articulate, and is capable of disagreement.
Freedom is an undefined abstraction which refers to many differ-
ent and often incongruous situations. It is in the nature of a syn-
optic description, like the term, "health," except that it refers to a
far larger number of elements. In much the same way as a dying
man still has healthy organs, freedom is never completely extin-
guished in all human areas. Just as the disease of a vital organ ter-
minates health, so nonfreedom or too little freedom denotes the
lack of freedom as such. Thus, freedom is not merely a matter of
degrees, but also of quality.
Whenever we speak of "freedom," we really imply "more" or
"less" freedom. Thus, we are dealing with a notion which is in-
herently measurable, or which, in any case, contains many measur-
able elements. It is possible to measure freedom.
7
Keeping in. mind
the distinction between the basic types of freedom, we would then
have to measure:
(1) the legal constraints imposed upon an individual's freedom
of action;
(2) the capabilities at the individual's disposal and rates of
change of constraints and capabilities;
(3) the utilization of these capabilities both in terms of de facto
use and of responsible behavior;
(4) the human results of such capabilities utilized.
Freedom is far broader than simple political rights, however im-
portant those may be. It can be considered independently of spe-
cific aspects of political organization, as it must be if it is indeed
a structural element of society as, a whole. But, in addition to pay-
ing attention to the intents, causes, modes, and limits of individual
behavior, we also must know the results of such action. It is, after
all, not the institution which counts, but its yield. Once we know
the yield, we possess a yardstick for evaluating organizational and
institutional structure and performance. How much freedom did
the institution produce? And at what price? This is the heart of
the matter.
232 Scientism and Values
VI
I have dwelt on the hypothetical example of the "measure-
ment of freedom" because it seems to me as being characteristic of
the real problems-which are the concern of the
political scientist. It illustrates the need for a theory and a meth-
odology (including a sociometry that does not plagiarize methods
of measurement devised for an inanimate ordre de grandeur). The
science of politics is as· yet poorly armed for dealing meaningfully
with problems that are incontestably its own and, more impor-
tantly, matter crucially to all peoples here and now.
Formal democracy is. an essential prerequisite, but not the ful-
fillment of freedom. Dictatorships do receive popular support. Our
wonderment at this incontrovertible fact is nourished by the as-
sumption that dictatorships violate all aspirations to freedom,
while democracy satisfies them all. This is not so.
Dictatorship has many advantages. As a rule, it has a sense of
direction and,mission. Dictatorship is served by genuine dedica-
tion. Dictatorship suffers less than does democracy from anomy
in decision-making. Under dictatorship, most people are less
bored, regardless of the fact that bustling dedication may not serve
a good cause and that social zest is kept alive at the cost of indi-
vidual privacy.
No doubt the overcommitment to formal democracy and to the
satisfaction of predominantly material interests has impeded the
progress of liberty. The free world has been talking about rights,
equality of men and peoples, the welfare of large numbers, and
economic security. All these things are important. But we have not
talked about obligation and discipline, emotional security, wise
and ethical choices, happiness, and creativity.
Democracy has yielded all too easily to the depreciation of its
currency. It has been content to "adjust" too many of its values
and institutions to mundane pressures and intellectual fashions. It
has been easy,' therefore, for the exponents of various naturalistic
philosophies and psychologies to conceive of democratic institu-
tions as emptyof moral purpose, as mere stables of the human ani-
mal. We should have tried, and we now must try, to build liberty
Social Science Versus the Obsession of UScientism" 233
for the moral person. Perhaps it is unfair to say that we have ne-
glected to preoccupy ourselves with the human problem in its true
dimension. Our bodies are better cared for than they ever were,
but our minds are anguished and our creative powers stifled. Free-
dom cannot be won and preserved like a jar of marmalade. Free-
dom, in its deepest meaning, is a creative process. The free world
has still a positive mission.
It is the task of the science of politics under freedom to develop
the disciplines and to fashion the tools of creative freedom. Scien-
tism has devoured a goodly portion of democracy's intellectual and
moral patrimony. The science of politics has to replace much that
has been lost to the academic hosts of the scientistic fury. Perhaps
the very challenge of the mortal challenge-will call
forth, in society as a whole, recuperative forces and, in the halls of
social science, a responsible and competent concern with the search
for truth.
NOTES
1. Aldous Huxley, Liberty and Peace (New York, 1959), pp. 32-35.
2. Edna Heidebreder, Seven Psychologies (New York, 1933), pp. 263-270.
3. F. A. Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science (Glencoe, Ill., 1952),
p.34.
4. Leland B. Yeager, "Measurement as Scientific Method in Economics," The
American Journal of Economics and Sociology XVI, No.4, 344-345.
5. C. Northcote Parkinson, Parkinson's Law or the Pursuit of Progress
(London, 1958).
6. For a perceptive critique of social "laws" and the meaningfulness of cor-
relation of social "variables," see kenneth Boulding, The Organizational
Revolution (New York, 1953), 76-77, and Ruth Benedict, "Social Strati-
fication and Political Power," in R. Bendix and S. M. Lipset, eds.,
Status and Power (Glencoe, 111., 1956), p. 608.
7. I am indebted to Stefan T. Possony for a concise statement of the prob-
lem of "measuring" freedom in his mimeographed The Meaning and
Measurement of Freedom, Foreign Policy Research Institute (University
of Pennsylvania, 1957).
Editor's Comment
Some critics will question the possibility of measuring free-
dom; others will perhaps accept it, but wonder about this new
"scientism"-----the measurement of values t.hat ought not to be
234 Scientism and Values
subject to yardsticks.. However, there are indeed fairly simple ways
of measuring freedom that will not degrade the entity being
measured. For instance, we have statistics at our disposal recording
year after year how many individuals, families, and people in vari-
ous occupations, choose freedom-they leave from behind the Iron
Curtain. We have such data for East Germany, Hungary, Red
China, Tibet, and other areas where individuals make a choice
from among relative degrees of freedom-such as, for example,
between the not-quite-so-oppressive communism in Tito's Yugo-
slavia and their opportunity to escape into Italy.
Moreover, we can measure in meaningful units, if we want to,
the time persons have to spend in offices of the .authorities in order
to get permission to migrate, to leave a country, to change occu-
pation or residence. All these important segments of a man's daily
life are related to freedom. American readers may not be able to
see their importance at once because they yet know so few controls
over their personal lives. All we meant here is that just as well as
the UN can study the degrees of censorship of the press in various
countries on a comparative basis, we might try to get similar data
for other areas of human freedom, not just the journalist's.
H. Schoeck.
12
Social Science As Autonomous
Activity
HENRY S. KARIEL
This essay :If: seeks to delineate an approach to understanding
human society. Those who partake in this approach are persuaded
that, far from trying to construct some specific social order or
learning how to fit men into it, they prefer public policies, which
will provide the conditions for the unimpeded pursuit of happi-
ness. They duly respect the various opinions and interests of indi-
vidual men. Yet their work indicates that more is involved, for it
contains uneasily coexisting elements-an on-duty scientific one
and an off-duty moralistic one. Both elements embody values. To
the extent that these values are in conflict and press on to victory,
both social science and liberal-democratic institutions are threat-
ened, for they require one another. Survival of neither seems
likely if either an unqualified science or an unqualified moralism
triumphs. If it could be shown that liberal-democratic theory is
unrelated to the work pursued and therefore fails to confine the
scientific quest, while, at the same time, much of social science is
impelled to reach out so as to incorporate liberal-democratic insti-
*While responsibility for the ideas here set forth is fully mine, I have benefited
from discussions with three members of the Society of Fellows, Harvard University:
George Kateb, Peter M. Ray, and Franklin M. Fisher. I am also grateful to the
Western Political Quarterly for permission to draw on my article, liThe New Order
of Mary Parker Follett," published September, 1955.
235
236 Scientism and J1alues
tutions, it may be obvious why today it is far less pertinent to re-
state professed moral sentiments than to retrace some of the value
assumptions which give meaning, coherence, ,and prestige to re-
search.
I
The research here specifically focused on is concerned, in
brief, with the construction and the testing of abstract concep-
tional systems composed of neutral terms which are seen as
c a p ~ b l e , at least in principle, of relating every effective variable.
Postulating all social forces to be in a state of natural balance
within a self-rectifying and self-sufficient order, it is committed to
a norm which allows reference to existing communities. As an in-
strumental science, it is believed to be able to determine how
whatever is variable might be economically moved toward the
norm. Because it systematically functionalizes human goals, the
only norms which restrain it are, ideally, the agreed-upon rules of
social science. This capsule characterization begs for elaboration.
What is becoming increasingly clear is that a traditional empha-
sis of social science on distinguishing between the degrees of ex-
cellence of social institutions, historical regimes, public policies, or
individual doctrines is being replaced by a stress on the formula-
tion of an architectonic descriptive theory of social behavior.! This
stress, one not without antecedents in the history of ideas, is mani-
fest in a concern for the progressive refinement of operational
methods. Identified by an array of vague labels which significantly
suggest the convergence of various disciplines-labels such as func-
tionalism, sociometry, operationalism, equilibrium analysis, topo-
logical psychology, social field theory, social geometry, homeostatic
model construction, or even sociopsychobiology-truly synthetic
knowledge is being earnestly pursued and, so it would appear, re-
spectably endowed.
Such a body of knowledge is to give formal expression to rela-
tionships between sensed phenomena. These phenomena, con-
nected by a network of logical or quantitative notations, are not
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 237
examined for their intrinsic merits. They are kept from becoming
the object of discourse. The aim is not the disclosure and objecti-
fication of equivocal meanings and values, but, on the contrary,
their systematic elimination. The remaining theoretical structure,
deliberately removed from experience, is to constitute a positive
natural science o£society.
The obstacles to its formulation, it is conceded, seem insuper-
able because they have been so firmly built into the mind of West-
ern man that even as he attempts to reflect upon them they stand
in his way. The very character of thought and language allows for
misleading distinctions between value-attributing subject and pas-
sive object, between substance and function. These distinctions are
believed to keep thought from becoming objective, permitting it
to correspond, not to the structure of the forces at large in the
world, but to the ever-varying desires of individuals.
2
The need,
therefore, is to escape the prison of a language incorporating
values, to cease using quality-ascribing adjectives which intrigu-
ingly hint at the existence of essentials, and to center at last on
dynamic processes. It becomes important to extinguish symbols
useful only when the channels of communication are not clear,
when redundancies are required to catch our attention or over-
come noises on the line. The residual system will embrace all
meaningful facts of social life, living up to Galileo's great vision:
Philosophy is written in that vast book which stands ever open before
our eyes, 1 mean the universe; but it cannot be read until we have
learnt the language and become familiar with the character in which
it is written. It is written in. mathematical language, and the letters
are triangles, circles and. other geometrical figures, without which
means it is humanly impossible to comprehend a single word.3
This geometric design, once apprehended in its fullness, cannot
be defiled by historical change. As an absolute, it will be radically
unhistorical, compressing past and future into a timeless frame.
Thus, in psychology, to introduce but one example, the informed
will repress all dramatic language and shift to a functional inter-
238 Scientism and Values
pretation of personality. As M. Brewster Smith has authoritatively
written,4
Modern psychology, historical or otherwise, is in fact overwhelmingly
functional. The dominant strain is oriented toward a model of the
organism as a self-regulating system and falls naturally into the use
of terms like homeostasis, equilibrium and adjustment; while the
marginal influence of Gestalt theory leads to parallel emphasis on the
field determination of phenomenal properties or behavior tendencies.
Formerly, when the emphasis had been on habits, traits, change,
and action, only the historical approach would do. Today, accord-
ing to Smith, it is fruitful to transcend specific histories, to lay
bare a scheme defining the individual's nonhistorical, extempora-
neous behavioral dispositions. Such a scheme-one claimed not
merely for a strain of psychology-will be a perfect accounting
system. It will fully take care of all contingencies, clearly showing
that perception of miracle, novelty, or accident must be a symptom
of faulty vision or a function of an uncontrolled body of impulses.
It is backed by the notion that everything scientifically significant
is attached, determined, and at hand. Though much meaningful
data may remain hidden until duly approached, all of it is em-
phatically present, more or less deeply embedded in the present
state of man's development. Through the proper method it might
be made to yield truthful correlations-eorrelationsl which have
held in the past as they must surely hold in the future. The real
can thus be forced to disclose itself as the ideal while, simultane-
ously, the ideal can be forced to disclose itself as the real.
II
Of course, social scientists are not conspiring to found a state
which, however unrealized, they believe to be woven into the na-
ture of things. To borrow a phrase from American public law,
they are merely engaged in parallel action. They labor as if set to
actualize a holistic system of elementary relations. And they rest
whenever their approach dissolves the peculiarities they encounter,
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 239
revealing them to be congruent and organized. They are satisfied
to the extent that they establish a necessary conneCtion between
society and nature. They know that a concern with an unrealiz-
able world must irresponsibly devitalize the scientific activity of
developing hypotheses which deal successfully with men in motion.
It may seem, deceptively, that their activity will cause human
values to be shunned, that the norms so obviously present in the
social field under investigation will be dis-regarded. Yet, in fact,
values will be given their credit when shown to be functions of an
efficacious system, one which is at once empirically describable
and· susceptible to an objective ordering. This is the case even
though at present there are no satisfactory quantitative terms to
designate degrees of functionality without postulating.value predi-
cates. But while it is true, as David Easton has seen,5 that it has not
yet been possible "to reduce the complex power relations. of society
to the necessary numerical quantities, and [that] there is little pros-
pect that in the foreseeable future it will be in a position to do so,"
the ideal remains. A genuinely neutral model should connect
values with the real substructure of social forces, group pressures,
and individual drives. Values cherished because man has exercised
his reason in the light of his knowledge of the past are not autono-
mous determinants; they can gain the status. of such determinants
only when recognized as ideologies, as verbal structures tied to
more fundamental data. Thus values must be identified with the
substructure of behavior, with the real determinants of thought
and action. Human ideals must not be set off from facts, but be
equated with them, losing their distinctive qualities. Or, more
accurately, they must be exhibited in a new setting which makes
it clear that they had actually never merited distinction in the first
place. In this framework they will be stabilized because realized.
Their new setting will provide full correlations., excepting nothing
from its grasp, necessarily handling all meaningful behavior, in-
cluding the norms and purposes. which nonscientific preconcep-
tions respect as incommensurable, unstable, and variable.
The job for social science then becomes, as, a·matter of course,
one of reducing existing instabilities and variations. In this way,
the significant facts about social structures will be revealed. Theo-
240 Scientism and Values
dore M. Newcomh has sympathetically reviewed what this is likely
to imply, for example, for psychology:
There is no harder lesson for the psychologist to learn, probably, than
that of viewing persons as functionaries in a group structure rather
than as psychological organisms-i.e., as parts rather than as wholes,
and as parts which, within limits, are interchangeable.
Once this lesson is learned, however, the facts of social structure
become available; a social system is seen as made up of differentiated
parts, the orderly relationships among which, rather than the personal
identity of which, become the major object of concern.
6
Far more broadly, Hannah Arendt, noting the implications of
functionalizing the purposive, dramatic content of intellectual cat-
egories, has shown how it has become possible, for example, to
identify Hitler and Jesus because functionally their roles were
indistinguishable.
7
Such linking of variables becomes essential to
a science intent on dealing with all components of a social field as
role-playing functionaries so as to make society explicable. Full
explication requires treating society as a system whose parts, in
theory if not in momentarily stubborn fact, "make sense," all being
duly related, complementing and balancing one another.
On the basis of this assumption of the natural harmony of struc-
tural components" the quest for knowledge may proceed. By the
traditional method of (1) postulating a hypothesis which might
economically relate variables, (2) following through by making de-
ductions, (3) checking whether the hypothesis corresponds to sense
experience, and (4) accepting, amending, or rejecting the hypothe-
sis-by this method reality may be known.
8
Hypotheses, assuredly,
may have to be reversed by "factual reality." Yet, it should be
noted, only ,after agreement is reached as to what is meant by
"facts" do facts actually have the final say: facts, it is held, must be
so constituted as to leave manifest traces before they can be given a
voice. The social scientist's hypotheses----devised to lead him to uni-
formities of behavior-will permit rational, scientific control only
of such facts as take their place in his conceptual order of uni-
formly related, coexisting parts. His very approach is designed to
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 241
permit nothing capricious, unique, or dysfunctional to slip
through. When his postulational system makes for the appropriate
discriminations, it is a pure theory, one through which it is possi-
ble to discern all the dynamically interacting facts of social reality.
Thus, the concern of social science is inescapably with the paten-
cieg and the actualities of reality. It is, to use Nietzsche's apt
phrase, concerned with "quantities of will," with power-its
extent and its use.
III
The theory giving integrity to such concerns is not, of course,
to be confused with any concrete society. It is merely an analytical
model. Nevertheless, it is believed to identify the character of nat-
ural conditions, the impetus immanent in historical processes.
While it may appear that no particular process is thus valued over
any other, a formal valuation does emerge. The notion that ','a dys-
function is a condition, or state of affairs that (1) results from the
operation (including in the term operation mere persistence) of a
structure of a given unit through time and (2) lessens the adapta-
tion or adjustment to the unit's setting, thus making for the lack
of persistence of the unit as defined of which the structure con-
cerned is a part or aspect" 9-this notion leaves the underlying re-
spect for integration and balance scarcely in doubt. Sound research
must concern itself with the specification of ties which provide for
the system's unity, which enable it to cohere and persist. The task
of social studies is thus easily defined: it is to identify the social
structure and determine what is functional. It is to gain knowledge
of the factors which engage what is idle, attract what is distracted,
enlist what is weary. It is to search for the conditions of instability,
the prerequisites of stability. It is to restore upset balances, resolve
conflicts, heal sore spots, and-most important, perhaps-remove
blocks to understanding.
To be sure, the knowledge thus accumulated can be used to
achieve a nonconservative end. But such an achievement, certainly
possible, could not be certified as scientific at a time when the
social world is simply a s s u m e ~ to be nothing but ,a fundamentally
closed, boundary-maintaining, and internally harmonious system.
242 Scientism and Values
Whether the social scientist intuits universals-assuming the risks
of Burckhardt, Spengler, Weber, and Benedict-or determines,
more empirically, just what to do in order to ensure a system's
perpetuity,IO he is directed to engage in patterning deviant ele-
ments, and this all the more energetically as he identifies knowl·
edge with the realization of an immanent "true state of affairs,"
with what would spontaneously occur in the social world were all
impediments removed.
As long as this approach remained purely formal and analytical,
as it did in the relativistic, comparative analyses of Burckhardt and
Weber, it also left unsettled just what the specific impedim,ents to
the ideal might be. Hence, discussion about them was not fore·
closed. But the abridgement of discussion is, fostered as a substan·
tive definition of a disequilibrium is implied. It would be more
tedious than difficult to show how massively this is the case, with
what readiness undesirable deviants, are actually being identified:
they are widely seen as the conflicts and displacements which have
flowered thanks to modern man's complex industrial society. Only
a deeply prejudiced person, it is made to appear, will fail to dis-
cern that whatever man's twentieth-century opportunities and
goods, the present is a painful era of community disruption, com·
plicated politics, and endless factional crises. If this offered diag-
nosis is far too broad, it is believed to cover so many contemporary
relationships that the application of social skills, of knowledge
about human relations, becom,es imperative indeed. And this
knowledge, at its best, is seen as th,e product of social science.
There being no question regarding what substantively consti·
tutes social delinquencies-the nature of the pathological being
virtually self-evident ll-social science may rightly apply its knowl-
edge and its methods, working to discover how individuals might
be moved with speed and efficiency toward the common, healthy
goal. It becomes credible to argue that psychologists should
seek to provide a basic science of human thinking, character, skill
learning, motives, conduct, etc., which will serve all the sciences of
man (e.g., anthropology, sociology, economics, government, education,
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 243
medicine, etc.) in much the same way and to the same extent that
biology now serves the agricultural and medical sciences.I2
The ends of just government, it may be inferred, are so fixed that
the scientist-governor may furnish the means.. Moreover, the laws
of psychology may be applied precisely as agronomists and physi-
cians apply the laws of biology: to maximize food production and
prolong life.
Like the interest of the engineer, that of the social scientist may
consequently center on the means to achieve given ends, to treat
the diseases of the body politic. Knowing the common good, he will
be prepared and subsidized to perfect the devices for gaining con-
sensus on it and to aid in its attainment. Thus, as social therapists
and policy scientists will show, in the language of Harold D.
Lasswell,13 a "lively concern ... for the problem of overcoming the
divisive tendencies of modern life and of bringing into existence a
more thorough integration of the goals and methods of public and
private action," politics itself will become infused by science.
As this infusion proceeds, a convergence of· social science disci-
plines is only to be expected. On the assumption, articulated by
John Gillin,14 that "the social or behavioral sciences could do with
a bit more order in their house," integration is being urged. Social
scientists are invited to join up and work on an orderly "science of
social man"-one which requires, according to Gillin,15 that social
scientists suspend those competitive urges which impel them to
distinguish themselves, that they suspend behavior having the
"tendency on occasion . . . of cluttering the field with a variety of
ostensibly theoretical statements...." It seems that "it must per-
haps be remembered that we live in a culture which also values
'cooperation with others' and 'self-discipline.' " Mark A. May, as
head of Yale University's Institute of Human Relations, has logi-
cally followed this theme through: 16
Our particular academic culture [May said during a roundtable dis-
cussion on "Integration of the Social Sciences"] tends to reward
rugged individualism. . . .
244 Scientism and Values
I am a strong believer in rewards and punishments. The prescrip-
tion for getting more integration in the social sciences is to reward
heavily all activities that look in that direction, provided that they
are solid and sound and promising. It is important, also to reduce the
rewards that have been so heavily attached to specialization.... The
practical application of this theory lies in the hands of those who sit
at the controls of the system of rewards and punishments in colleges,
universities, foundations, and scientific societies.
IV
United in their aim of constructing and testing a behavioral
science, social scientists are induced to engage in oper.ations which
are not checked, theoretically, by anything but their own power to
be operative. Of course, prescriptions for social health do not
countenance every kind of action. Limitations are imposed by the
very purposes for which social science techniques are brought to
bear on society. The techniques themselves being wholly neutral,
they take on the color of the objective for which they are used.
The goodness of the objective being granted, implementation may
properly proceed.
But the value of the posited objective is itself defined only by its
capacity to fulfin a function scientifically determinable. An ade-
quate social science cannot credit human objectives as irreducible,
for they are deemed to lie within its own domain of means and
are, therefore, considered to be amenable to functionalization.
They are understood as instruments of, not as guides to, human
aspirations, as tools for survival and mastery. The final test of
their validity is the very one that is applied to the constructs of
science, with the result that myths, ideals, ideologies, and scientific
formulations all acquire identity. To the extent that scientific
knowledge of the links between social phenomena is certain and
trustworthy, such knowledge becomes knowledge of objectives.
Seemingly a sharp distinction between the scientific formula-
tions which order the world and the world itself remains. But
when it is assumed that the ordering formulations are an inherent
part of nature, wrested from it by the scientific effort to control
emergencies, to conquer chance, and to make life liveable, they
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 245
retain no independence save that arbitrarily assigned them. They
are legitimate only because they happen to be potent, efficient, or
instrumental. All structuring of the natural world-including, of
course, of the social world, of the behavior and conduct of indi-
vidual persons-is based on the belief that those scientific con-
structs which apparently transcend natural behavior cannot justly
be distinguished from it. They are but a form of behavior, a kind
of factual datum essentially indistinct from those passions which
drive men to seek power and satisfy their need systems. To control
constructs themselves, to impose a check on science, is to cut into
its capacity for 'experimental action. It is at once unnatural and
suicidal, for it delimits science, accepting not its own reason, but
one which professes to transcend it. Such adherence to metaphysi-
cal dogma would be self-deceptive when not used as a device for
deceiving others. Those who wish to rid themselves of deception
and act in a spirit of objectivity must exercise their will-pre-
sumably their good will.
I7
They must impose upon the social flux,
set men in motion, i n t e r ~ c t with their data, learn by doing, verify
by testing.
Knowledge of laws defining social relations in their natural,
untouched, and untested state is impossible. To be sure, one is
frequently compelled to make the attempt to verify hypotheses
by conducting tests in an environment smaller than the one for
which the hypotheses are hoped to hold true. Or one may project
from past or distant situations about which facts are readily avail-
able for correlations. Thes,e two methods are indeed conventional
and serviceable, yielding knowledge sufficiently exact for such
practical purposes as navigating through storms, finding oil under
the soil, anticipating the demands of consum.ers, or predicting
the choices of voters. Yet, in terms of the ideal of science, both
methods are troublesome all the same. The first assumes that
identical causes will tend to produce identical effects, that outside
the laboratory nothing is likely to intervene and make effects
disproportionate to their causes. The well-recognized trouble here
is that in human affairs (and not merely in human affairs) some
things sometimes do manage to intervene, however minutely, and
that consequently-if the truth is to be known and if only the
246 Scientism and Values
testable is admitted as truth-the progressive extension of the
laboratory becomes an imperative. Harold D. Lasswell's observa-
tions are to the point: 18
The principal limitation [to the experimental approach] is that many
of the most elegant findings can only be transferred to other labora-
tories. They cannot be transferred to field situations because there is
no technique of demonstrating in the field the degree in which the
conditions assumed as constant in the laboratory do in fact occur.
For this reason, "bridges need to be built between laboratory
situations and field situations,." It becomes a necessary "refine-
ment ... to take the laboratory design into the field and to apply
it to a whole community context. In such a setting many 'of the
procedures devised under laboratory· conditions take on new
meaning." The field, in effect transformed into laboratory, may
"then be explored more intensively in order to identify the
variables that account for the deviation. This can be done by
applying more laboratory-type measures at the proper spots and
by instituting a program of 'probers,' 'pre-tests,' 'interventions,'
and 'appraisals.' "
The second method, that of extr.apolation, may be seen in its
consequences as but a variant of the first, assuming as it does
that variables which coexisted in the past will tend to do so in
the future. The experience, however rare, that they will not, that
even tendencies may be upset, indicates the essential shortcoming,
in terms of the scientific ideal, ofa method which is satisfied with
statistical correlations.I
9
"The infinite variety of causal sequences
to which every act and event in history is related," Reinhold
Niebuhr has pointed out,20 "makes almost every correlation of
causes sufficiently plausible to be immune to compelling chal-
lenge." The ideal of empirical science is exact knowledge on the
basis of which men might act without further consideration of
alternatives, without further study, research, reflection, or debate.
Before the scientist will be justified in claiming that particular
conditions have such objective existence, he must have exercised
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 247
full control. Unless he has, his discoveries. cannot be the final
ground for action.
When his formulations are nevertheless accepted as the final
ground for action, the assumption must be that his knowledge is
complete, that the real problems and their natural, necessary
solutions are known. To act on the basis of such knowledge is in
fact to order variables in the light of what is conceived as in-
dubitably real or true. Such ordering. constitutes the exercise of
control. Since it is possible to obtain certain empirical knowledge
only of those relations which men have transfused by their will,
which men have actually constructed and in which they can ulti-
mately encounter only themselves, empirical science demands. the
exercise of the will, a grappling with a nature which insists on
having its intrinsic properties. It becomes exasperating and chal-
lenging to realize that speculative, reflective knowledge of the
world, because of the all-pervasiveness of bias, because man is a
determined creature, can be only coincidentally accurate. Being
so much part of nature, man cannot truly find out what it is. He
cannot look upon it with objectivity; he cannot assess it from
above; he cannot gain a disinterested view of it.
But by no means does this require him to give up his quest for
knowledge. He feels. free to reinterpret the quest, to make it be-
come one for survival within nature, one for natural power over
the competing forces of life. Thus, the purpose of science be-
comes a pseudo purpose: control, not in reference to a transcend-
ing objective, but for its own sake. Thereby science, equated with
spontaneous right action, gains autonomy, a condition not likely
to he frowned upon when its ethos is wholly identified with a
rationale for liberal-democratic institutions.
21
It becomes. self-re-
liant and self-justifying; it is measured, not against a higher order
of reality, not against standards anteceding the conventions of
empirical science, but against an ideal which values the capacity
to exercise power, to be effective, to flex one's instruments (in-
cluding ideologies and myths) for the control of nature, of society,
and of man. Thus a genuine science is manipulative knowledge;
it is a body of concepts viewed as valid when they yield results in
248 Scientism and Values
application. Indeed, a true order of being, an objective model of
nature, is not one which man gets out of nature, but one which
he imputes to it. The main scientific task, therefore, is to make of
nature what one will. Objective knowledge being foreclosed-
for nature is undeniably obstinate-subjective .action takes its
place.
In so far as science requires an attitude of radical skepticism
toward relations not yet fixed by scientific resolutions, not yet
proved valid under ever more controlled conditions, it exacts a
pledge for continuous experimentation, every other approach to
gain understanding being but second best. While a fringe of
human and social nature may always. hold out-and will, to that
extent, be beyond understanding-testing will permit ever-in-
creasing knowledge and control. The confirming of hypotheses
will mean both adding to theoretical insight and reshaping the
social world. Indeed, the constructs of science will make the social
world, since they alone govern and bestow status. It is true that
compliance may be hard to exact, that society may not be infinitely
pliable, that there are imprecise forces at work which keep men
from bending. Yet it is the existence of these very forces which
always poses the initial question. For unless these, too, are con-
trolled, every statement about the true nature of social or political
things remains tentative. The task, therefore, is to reduce whatever
makes management difficult, to concentrate on those slippery
factors which, though still ungoverned, must be made amenable
to scientific government. As one social scientist has explained,22
Having identified to our satisfaction the relevant factors in a situation,
the next step [in following a scientific method] is to select those which
we can effectively control. The ideal setup is one wherein we can
control every factor. At the present state of the social sciences this is
a mere dream. For one thing, in social science we are still lacking
handles, tongs, pliers or what you will with which to grasp a situa-
tional factor for manipulative purposes.
Poorly equipped though it be, science must put everything
of significance within its grasp. Potentially nothing can be exempt
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 249
from the attempt to establish that social theories are valid, that
they work, or that, in the language of Hobbes, some sovereign
might convert the truth of speculation into the utility of practice.
For it is felt that the knowable world contains nothing un-
controllable, that it is devoid of phenomena not susceptible, in
principle, to scientilic for:rnulation, circuInScription, and enclo-
sure.
Yet it should be noted that science's own framework, including
the rules of procedure by which it is built up, remains free. Unlike
the data it orders, it is incommensurate, introduced to rid the
world of what is designated as risky, providential, or fateful. This
framework is the potent variable, presumably defining states of
power relations with objectivity by giving these relations symbolic
or numerical attributes. These attributes, however, must in prac-
tice always constitute a normative standard, for departure from
them will make a system's survival unlikely: departure will pro-
duce lawlessness and decay.
This cannot mean, certainly, that the social scientist, even when
bent on the prevention of social conflict and the maintenance of
public health, will go out into the world and literally make good.
He may be less interested than Hobbes in having his writings
fall into the hands of a sovereign. Depending on his temper, on
the vitality of a residual tradition, or on prevailing social re-
straints-all of which are practically impressive, but theoretically
irrelevant-he may be satisfied with having experienced his vision.
Being patient, he may relax after having communicated it to those
who might listen. But when consistently loyal to his position,
he will have to fight for its incarnation, stilling whatever voices
presume to resist it, aiding whatever resembles it. He must prompt
men to realize their destiny, working not only as their prophet
but also as their redeemer. Moreover, his labor may be supported
by a belief in success for which his eighteenth-century precursors-
savants whose almost unified science was ignorant of the mass-
manipulating tools of modern technology-could not reasonably
hope. Allied with the powers that be and in the name of the
consummation of science, he may at last move men toward the
full life, toward fulfillment in a historical millennium.
2
!
250 Scientism and Values
v
Before outlining a few of the possible consequences of the
kind of approach to the study of society which has been discussed,
it should be useful to summarize three of its crucial assumptions:
(1) The only significant order of social reality is the one inherently
susceptible to· empirical verification, to factor analysis, and phy-
sicomathematical reduction; (2) the pursuit of knowledge mani-
fests itself in the enactment of norms which inhere in the pursuit
itself; and (3) it is. the function of the scientist to master a nature-
including man and society-which is devoid of purposes, intel-
ligible and communicable by man.
What are these assumptions likely to imply?
If it is held that orders of reality other than those amenable to
reduction to functional terms are merely subjective ones, con-
jectures about social institutions and policies not susceptible to
empirical verification tend to be disparaged. Such speculation,
considered untrustworthy, is contrasted to that whose objectivity,
empirically confirmed, justifies action along lines making for the
functionalization of the subject matter of social science. In this
process, social science goes to work in the public arena on the
basis of decisive assumptions-assumptions posited as if there
were no alternatives to them-which those affected by its action
do not share in formulating.
To the extent that the research is theory-oriented, all that is
involved is constructing frameworks presuming to embrace vari-
ables of significance; to the extent that it is oriented toward the
solution of practical problems, it seeks. to attain and perpetuate
the final good of social harmony. Both orientations tend to co-
operate in integrating dysfunctional forces, in curing social and
individual ills.
Contribution to the body of science requires instituting that
state of unity within which all particulars are truly related. This
quest is not one for reflective understanding of the nature of the
social world, but one for bringing history to its terminus by
resolving historical conflicts in practice.
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 251
While searching for the final synthesis of the manifold antago-
nisms man believes himself to be experiencing, the social scientist
may proceed without objective limits. The limits to his action
are the subjective ones of his energy, his inventiveness, his genius.
Seemingly objective schemes of values which presume to re-
strain the attempt to control variables dissolve into the "real"
forces which give rise to them. Other checks are unduly diverting,
retarding the accumulation of certain knowledge and the realiza-
tion of ideals. Social scientists are thus" free to dominate nature
with indifference to its own purposes, which are, unintelligible
because science cannot establish. or validate them. They are free
to press knowledge out of an environment which yields what it is
forced to yield by their practical operations, by their thorough-
going, endless activity. "Potentially, the nature of concern to man
is infinitely pliable; its components are infinitely interrelated. The
only scientific challenge to any particular social arrangement must
be on the ground that control is not total. Not all arrangements,
of course, are equally adequate. Experiments, and the theories
they sustain, may be characterized as trivial or important, de-
pending on the degree. to which they make control possible, to
which they turn nature to man's use. Nature, it is assumed, serves
its purpose by being exploited. Its purpose, as Nietzsche was the
first to urge wholeheartedly, may be imputed to it by.the survival-
facilitating norms creatively framed by the interested scientist.
Denial of this either reflects hidden but analyzable interests or
else is unhealthy and unnatural, clearly not furthering the per-
petuation of .life, the satisfaction of needs, or the production of
comfort.
When men are prepared" to act consistently on the basis of the
beliefs (1) that a single approach to phenomena is socially fruitful
and desirable, (2) that nothing but science itself need restrain the
progressive unification of the social world, and (3) that whatever
nature-including human nature....-may be, it can potentially be
made into anything else, their action is likely to have several
practical effects:
1. A unification of the social sciences to carry out a concerted
attack on dysfunctional forces} on social and individual disturb-
252 Scientism and J1alues
ances. This unification requires and justifies identifying science
with techniques of manipulation, letting the techniques determine
the valid limits of social research, working for an integration of
the outlook and resources of social scientists, and penalizing those
who resist convergence.
2. A n attempt to spread information about the potency of the
models of social science. Notational systems, it may be made rea-
sonably clear, are efficient implements for action, effective weapons
for the maintenance or destruction of power, likely to become
ever sharper in application.
3. A gradual enlargement of the area considered suitable for
scientific operations so that ever more tracts of life may be ordered
objectively. The depreciation of two major ideals would follow
from this activity: (1) the ideal that agreement should be reached,
however temporarily, by a process of political negotiation; (2) the
ideal that conflicts should be tentatively settled by means of
human-that is, value-ascribing-discourse, by dialectical social
philosophy.
As it becomes possible to place goals into a frame within which
they may be objectively perceived, within which those value
conflicts left inconclusive by parliamentary politics may be settled
with finality, thanks to a neutral "administration of things," the
ends of life and action are removed from the traditional process
of political compromise and dialectical discussion. Such a process
must appear increasingly specious, being predicated on the pos-
sibility of human rationality, on the conviction that language may
be informative and can make genuine knowledge available. When
it is held, to the contrary, that language functions merely to secure
or prevent action, to maintain or destroy an equilibrium, to create
or undermine consensus, parliamentarianism can be only at-
mospherically useful.
The assumption that knowledge is gained only by language
which has operational meaning and that all other language ration-
alizes th.e drive for power or serves to sublimate aggressions and
extend pleasures leads not only to the devaluation of political set-
tlements, but also to the rejection of artists, mystics, and philos-
ophers as collaborators in the perennial search for final truth.
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 253
Their search, it must be held, will inevitably end in a subjective
acceptance of personal feelings passed off as "truths," and no more.
No doubt, such truths may still be clarified, analyzed, or causally
explained. But they cannot be respected and criticized on the
merits as long as all standards in reference to which criticism
might be made-including, of course, standards created by social
scientists,.-are themselves deemed to be subjective and conven-
tional.
Reason, unable to decide between right and wrong conduct,
to assess the various, purposes of action, to connect man with truth,
can serve only to adjust him to his desires, aiding survival. Law
and policy, legislation and politics, therefore, may be understood
as the repercussions of' interests, not the ever-amendable result of
rational discourse. To judge or construct the public order, it is
necessary to understand, not the grounds offered for it, but the
power alignments which brought it about, its causes rather than
its merits. Its sole criterion is its effectiveness. Thus, the formula-
tion of policy, the drafting of constitutions, become a branch of
an empirical science to which ethics is logically quite irrelevant.
And the application of this, science to solve the problems faced
by society will naturally require-Lasswell, among others, has
stressed this 24-"the of much of the traditional
baggage of metaphysics and theology." Politics. will become in-
creasingly objective and scientific, a calling for the expert tech-
nician.
4. A growing respectability of an elite of social engineers as
the procedures by which free societies determine their policy goals
make way for methods by which scientific truths are formulated.
A comprehensive value-neutral science must divest itself, as
George A. Lundberg has urged,25 of "the luxury of indignation,"
"personalistic and moralistic interpretations," and "deeply cher-
ished ideologies resembling in form if not in content their
theological predecessors." It must disregard "the goals of striving"
and, instead, suggest alternatives, state their implications, and
develop the most efficient "method of a,chieving whatever ends
men want. . .." Science is not concerned with what, at least in
one sense, are ends. These society sets by any procedure it chooses.
254 Scientism and Values
Science, however, cannot sanction every procedure which a society
might employ: som.e of them will not aid the realization of ends.
The proper procedures, the only ones which guarantee the suc-
cessful operation and the effective functioning of society, are those
which reject the possibility that a value-impregnated expression
of an individual may conceivably be true independently of his
interests. In accordance with its commitment to a phenomenal
reality-and its. attendant discrimination against other realms of
reality-science must reduce, or repudiate as myth, the belief
that ends may be ontological, that values may transcend indivi-
dual desires. It therefore recognizes (1) that the end for man is
quite literally his end-his death, and (2) that the end for science
is the assuring of survival, the maintaining of the social and
individual equilibrium. Hence, the purpose of science is to keep
everything endlessly moving. Its credentials are furnished by its
power to make society survive; and as society is in fact kept for-
ever on the move-without hitches, deviations, or back talk-its
credentials are authenticated.
5. A driv'e to fuss ever more intimately with the individual
person so that social science may achieve its end. Having dis-
covered that at the core of man·is an abhorrible void, unfulfilled
but crying for fulfillment, social scientists are likely to work on
that state toward which man's true will aspires. Such work effects
a transformation within man himself. Karl Mannheim has elabo-
rated on this:
Functionalism made its first appearance in the field ,of the natural
sciences, and could be described as the technical point of view. It
has only recently been transferred t.o the social sphere.. '..
Once this technical approach was transferred' from the natural
sciences to human affairs, it was bound to bring about a profound
change in man himself.... The functional approach no longer
regards ideas and moral standards as absolute values, but as products
of the social process which can, if necessary, be changed by scientific
guidance combined with political practice....
The extension of this doctrine of technical supremacy which I have
advocated in this book as one of several approaches to society is in
my opinion inevitable. . . .
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 255
Progress in the technique of organization is nothing but the appli-
cation of technical conceptions to the forms of co-operation. A human
being, regarded as part of the social machine, is to a certain extent
stabilized in his reactions by training and education, and all his
recently acquired activities are co-ordinated according to a definite
principle of efficiency within an organized framework.2G
In accordance with this new regard for human beings, man must
be appropriately energized and directed. Being a pliable creature,
he must be sufficiently softened and compressed to fit into those
compartments. which might be readily supervised. Within them,
he can be guided to lead a secure and satisfying life. This is best
done by quieting his prejudices, straightening out his complica-
tions,and exposing the irrationality of his diversions. The ex-
peditors of history must· trim and· neutralize him, eliminating
those of his motives which may set him to doing the impractical,
frivolous, perilous, or unexpected. They must allow him to ex-
perience the positive harm of having his fling, telling his joke,
or sitting the next one out. His environment must be so arranged
as to make him comfortable. He must be fitted so that he will
become the self-renouncing creature he· naturally is. Pains must
be taken to relieve him of the agony of choice between alterna-
tives, relieve him of that perplexing inner conflict which jeop-
ardizes every civil order.
Those whose calling it is to assume total responsibility for the
whole of man-the elite whose historical function it is to termi-
nate history-must purposefully intervene, varying one factor
here, another one there, moving man by affecting his behavior,
driving him by harnessing his drives, watching always whether
his motions and emotions. tend more and more to conform to the
plotted ideal, whether the myths calculated to galvanize him will
induce him to behave as expected, to make his industry correspond
to his true interest.
Fortunately, it is never necessary to tamper with man's true
will-only with the will's objectively pathological aberrations,
with those human urgings which prompt the individual to con-
ceive of himself as selfishly subjective. Only the deviant, not the
256 Scientism and Values
norm, need be imposed upon, and hence the elite's tax on non-
conformity is justified. Its claim to power is legitimate since, to
the extent that it is an elite in the service of social science, it will
leave normal men alone.
As Tocqueville perceived, such rational leadership is pene-
trating, but soothing. It is extensive, but gentle. It slowly breeds
a contented mass of men-a mass untroubled by the derangements
which spring from the reverberations of the playful imagination
and free from that irreducible mystery of spirit upon which man,
when self-deceived, bases his dignity.
Above this race of men [Tocqueville concluded in his second volume
on democracy in America] stands an immense and tutelary power,
which takes upon itself alone to secure their gratifications, and to
watch over their fate. That power is absolute, minute, regular, provi-
dent, and mild. It would be like the authority of a parent, if, like that
authority, its object was to prepare men for manhood; but it seeks,
on the contrary, to keep them in perpetual childhood: it is well con-
tent that the people should rejoice, provided they think of nothing
but rejoicing. For their happiness such a government willingly labors,
but it chooses to be the sole agent and the only arbiter of that happi-
ness; it provides for their security, foresees and supplies their necessi-
ties., facilitates their pleasures, manages their principal concerns,
directs their industry, regulates the descent of property, and sub-
divides their inheritances-what remains, but to spare them all the
care of thinking and all the trouble of living?
VI
It should be emphasized that those whose work has been here
reflected on would vigorously repudiate the regime projected by
Tocqueville. The grounds for this repudiation, namely, the good
motives and worthy interests of social scientists, have not, of course,
been the subject of this analysis, one which has been concerned
instead with some of their assumptions., And these assumptions,
to be fully explicit, make for a state which cannot claim to be
legitimate. Although the multiplicity of existing appeals to a just
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 257
order may make it appear impossible to judge any particular
one as legitimate, it might, nevertheless, be suggested that these
very claims imply that a normative order transcends the existing
one. The denial of the reality of such transcending objectives,
whether or not incorporated in a method for understanding
society, cannot stand when it is tied to the belief that some specific
order truly constitutes the incarnation of justice.
Although this is precisely the underlying postulate of part of
the work of current social science, its authors have not simply
pointed to part of reality and called it good. Yet, even when they
have refused to point, the perspective embodied within their
research has acted as a pointer for them. While they have not ad-
vocated an amoral power state, they have labored so as to produce
one by systematically eliminating any rational alternative. They
have effectually cancelled unrealized human ideals,--except, of
course, when they have found them to be operative, to be real,
to be other than ideal. Postulating a state within which all alter-
natives are unified, within which all ideals are one, they have
made the ideal and the real synonymous. They have charged their
methods to eliminate all tension between experience and aspira-
tion, between fact and value. Yet once they have dispelled this
tension, the very notion of justice must become irrelevant. Once
they have encouraged existing conditions and normative standards
to blend, the very pursuit of knowledge must become an irrational
endeavor. Once they have dismissed value systems providing terms
by which troubled individuals might assess moving events, his-
torical states, and political action, man's claim to make meaningful
distinctions, ascribe values, and exercise his reason must become
impertinent.
That they have not been successful in their quest-and who
would doubt the significance of their own contributions to a
pluralistic liberal society?-is due to a lack of consistency, to a
sentimentality which reflects, perhaps, either the afterglow of an
older tradition or some pressing humanistic interest quietly
bidding for recognition.
27
Their respect for the individual does
not arise from the assumptions basic to their methods of inquiry.
258 Scientism and Values
When these, rather than their generous sentiments, are followed
through, there emerges a model indifferent to justice, indifferent
to that indefinable human uniqueness that still makes it reason-
able to speak of man's moral freedom and obliges us to keep the
institution of politics in good repair.
NOTES
1. See Bernard Barber, Science and the Social Order (Glencoe: Free Press,
1952), p. 244. Note especially Roy R. Grinker, ed., Toward a Unified
Theory of Human Behavior (New York: Basic Books, 1956); James G.
Miller, "Toward a General Theory for the Behavioral Sciences," in
Leonard D. White, ed., The State of the Social Sciences (Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1956), pp. 29-65; and essays by Richard C.
Snyder, Marion J. Levy, and Talcott Parsons in Roland Young, ed.,
Approaches to the Study of Politics (Evanston: Northwestern University
Press, 1958).
2. "Our bias centers in the subject-predicate bifurcation of our sentence
structure, a division which prevents us from formulating a proposition
without a substantive either stated or implied, and which compels us to
separate the substantive from the verb. . .." (Laura Thompson, "In
Quest of an Heuristic Approach to the Study of Mankind," Philosophy
of XIII [January, 1946], 53-66, 54.)
3. Galileo, "II Saggiatore," 180, p. 232; quoted in R. G. Colling-
wood, The Idea of Nature (Oxford: Clarendon, 1945), p. 102.
4. In John Gillin, ed., For a Science of Social Man (New York: Macmillan,
1954), pp. 41-42, 44.
5. David Easton, The Political System (New York: Knopf, 1953), p. 289.
6. Theodore M. Newcomb, "Sociology and Psychology," in Gillin, ed.,
op. pp. 227-256, p. 241.
7. See Hannah Arendt, "Religion and Politics," II (September,
1953), 105-126; Arendt also notes the blurring of distinctions resulting
from the analysis of Communism as a religion.
8. For a sophisticated discussion of the procedural conventions for deter-
mining the correctness of a decision to accept a proposition as part of
scientific knowledge, see Felix Kaufmann, Methodology of the Social
Sciences (New York: Oxford University Press, 1944).
9. This definition is from the appendix of Marion J. Levy, Jr., "Some
Aspects of 'Structural-Functional' Analysis and Political Science," in
Young, ed., op. pp. 52-66.
10. For an illustration, see R. K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure
(Glencoe: Free Press, 1949), pp. 79-80.
11. See Edwin H. Sutherland, "Social Pathology," American Journal of
Sociology, L (May, 1945), 429-435, 431.
12. Harvard University Commission to Advise on the Future of Psychology
Social Science As Autonomous Activity 259
at Harvard, Alan Gregg, chairman, The Place of Psychology in an Ideal
University (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1947), p. 2.
13. Harold D. Lasswell, "The Policy Orientation," in Daniel Lerner and
Harold D. Lasswell, eds., The Policy Sciences: Recent Developments in
Science and Method (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1951), pp.
3-15, p. 3.
14. Gillin, loco cit'
J
p. 6. See also John Gillin, "Methods of Approach to the
Study of Hunlan Behavior," in F. L. K. Hsu, ed., Aspects Of Culture and
Personality (New York: Abelard-Schuman, 1954), pp. 3-18.
15. "The Forward View," in Gillin, ed., op. cit., pp. 257-276, p. 276.
16. In Louis Wirth, ed., Eleven Twenty-Six: A Decade of Social Science
Research (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949), pp. 133-134.
17. Yet note the reservations about the presumption of good will as ex-
pressed in Arnold M. Rose, Theory and Method in the Social Sciences
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1954), pp. 184-188.
18. Harold D. Lasswell, "Current Studies of the Decision Process: Auto-
mation versus Creativity," Western Political Quarterly, VIII (September,
1955), 381-399, 385, 386.
19. Cf. Morris R. Cohen's conclusion that "despite some amateurish phi-
losophizing on the part of some physicists or biologists when they take
a vacation from the field of their special competence, the fact is that
natural science is never satisfied with empirical statistical correlation but
ever seeks to formulate universal laws...." ("Causation and Its Applica-
tion to History," Journal of the History of Ideas, III [January, 1942],
12-29, 18).
20. Christian Realism and Political Problems (New York: Scribner's, 1953),
p. 83.
21. See, for example, Anatol Rapoport, Science and the Goals of Man (New
York: Harper, 1950).
22. Ernest Greenwood, Experimental Sociology: A Study in Method (New
York: King's Crown Press, 1945), p. 78.
23. A conclusion as extreme as this is suggested by Eric Voegelin, The New
Science of Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1952), chap. 4.
Few have been as explicit on this point as Laura Thompson (loc. cit.,
pp. 55, 59-60). She maintains that not until social science has re-evaluated
its premises in the "light of the new vision of science" and brought its
"methods into line with new operational concepts, will a fundamental
integration of the sciences of mankind emerge which may place in the
hands of man a key to his own salvation." She concludes that, adopting
the proper method, social science can help produce an ideal state by
revealing what "nature-culture-personality structures" are conducive to
it and by answering, anl0ng other questions, "How may those that do
not fit tailor themselves or be tailored to a new and adequate design?"
24. In Lerner and Lasswell, op. cit., p. 12.
25. "The Future of the Social Sciences," Scientific Monthly, LIII (October,
1941), 346-359, 240-244.
26. Karl Mannheim, Man and Society in an Age of Reconstruction (New
York: Harcourt, Brace, 1951), pp. 240-244.
260 Scientism and Values
27. This may be illustrated by William Foote Whyte's Pattern for Industrial
Peace (New York: Harper, 1951), an account of the relations of Inland
Steel Container Company's Chicago plant with its union local of the
United Steelworkers of America. Whyte says (pp. vii, 158) that the
purpose of his report was "to discover general principles of human rela-
tions that might be applied to other cases, that might enable us to
predict and control behavior." Yet, interestingly enough, his account
somehow succeeds in enriching and enlarging sympathies for men as
autonomous ends, suggesting t h a ~ Whyte was less the single-minded be-
haviorist than he supposes. Apparently he permitted purposes other than
his professed one to select and shape his material: he notes (p. 159), for
example, that he "would like people to read this book." The desire to be
read, to partake in human discourse, must have called for inclusion of
many a nonscientific symbol, making his work valuable and significant in
a sense other than intended.
Index of Authors
Burckhardt, Jacob, 242
Burgess, Ernest W., 102, 105
Burke, Kenneth, 94, 99
CALDWELL, Joseph R., 143
Cameron, Merton K., 99
Campbell, A. A., 142
Carr;E. H., 103
Carter, G. S., 70 ff., 77 f., 82
Case, Clarence M., 98
Cervantes, Lucius F., 140
Chapin, F. Stuart, 99
Churchill, Sir Winston, 139
Cohen, Morris R., 41 f., 48, 259
Collingwood, R. G., 258
Comte, Auguste, 117, 148 f., 152, 202,
212, 215 f., 221
Condorcet, Marquis de, 205
Coon, Carleton S., 64 fr., 74, 77 fr., 81,
109 f.
Copernicus, 10,24 f., 28, 47, 179
Couch, W. T., xiv
Count, E. W., 79
Creon, 34 f., 37, 39 f., 46
Crocker, E. C., 142
Cronin, Morton, 115
Crover, D. W., 142
DARWS, 36, 149
Darwin, Charles, 63, 149
Democritus, 203
Descartes, 22, 24 f., 28, 40, 47
Dewey, John, 47
Djilas, Milovan, 117
Donne,]ohn,27,47
Dunham, H. Warren, 99
EASTON, David, 239
261
ACKERKNECHT, E. H., 216
Adler, Franz, 142
Anderson, Nds, 104, 117
Antigone, 34 f., 37, 39 f., 46
Aquinas, Thomas, 22
Arendt, Hannah, 240, 258
Aristotle, 22, 28, 42, 52, 69, 80, 172
Ayer, A. J., 48
BACON, Francis, 202, 216
Bacon, Friar Roger, 179
Barber, Bernard, 258
Barker, R. G., 201
Barnett, H. G., 107, 109
Barzun, Jacques, xv
Becker, Carl, 157
Bendix, R., 233
Benedict, Ruth, 11, 30 ff., 48, 59, 233,
242
Bennett, John W., 107 f., 114
Berkeley, George, 24 f., 47
Berlin, Isaiah, 152, 158
Bertalanffy, Ludwig von, 81, 185, 201,
216 f.
Bindra, D., 217
Bodl, E. J., 201
Boggs, M. M., 142
Bonner, J. T., 185, 200
Boulding, Kenneth E., 212,217, 233
Bowley, Marian, 178
Boyd, William C., xvi
Bradley, F. H., 41
Braun, W., 183, 200
Breckenridge, M. E., 198, 200
Brennan, Robert Edward, 177
Bronk, D. W., 216
Buckle, Henry T., 149
Bunzel, Ruth, 58
Index of Authors
Inhelder, B., 217
262
Eberhard, Wolfram, 117
Einstein, Albert, 2
Emmett, Dorothy, 25
Erikson, Kai T., xv
Eteocles, 34
Etzioni, Amitai, 143
FINCH, Henry A., 48, 99
Fortune, R., 58
Fourier, Charles, 122, 130
Fox, BYron L., 103
Freud, Sigmund, 51, 57
Frisch, Karl von, x, 128, 131
Fromm, Erich, 54
GALBRAITH, John, 121, 125
Galileo, 3, 10, 24 f., 28, 41, 47, 57, 142,
172, 209, 237, 258
Geyl, Pieter, 154, 157 f.
Gillin, john, 110, 118, 243, 258 f.
Glass, Bentley, 107
Green, Arnold W., 116
Greenwood, Ernest, 259
Gregg, Alan, 259
Grimm, Heinz, 141
HACKER, F. J., 217
Hallowell, A. Irving, 63, 67, 81
Hammerstein, Oscar, 126
Harmon, Francis L., 177
Harwood, E. C., 142, 172, 179
Hassett, Joseph D., 177 f.
Hayek, F. A., 55, 86, 98, 178, 202,
205 f., 210, 212, 216 f., 221, 233
Hegel, 22, 148 f.
Hemingway, E., 59
Henle, Paul, 77, 82
Herodotus, 36 f., 47, 219 f.
Hobbes, Thomas, 55, 249
Hobbs, A. H., 93, 99, 177
Hoebel, E. Adamson, 109
Hoffer, E., 212, 217
Holton, Gerald, xv
Hughes, B. 0., 188, 191 f., 197, 200 f.
Hume, David, 22, 25 if., 33, 55, 57, 80
Huxley, Aldous, 81, 99, 213, 215 f., 233
Huxley, T. H., 81, 99
ICHHEISER, Gustav, 113
JAMES, William, 40 f., 69
joyce, George H., 99
KANT, Immanuel, 22, 25, 33, 73, 80
Kaufman, Felix, 258
Kepler, J., 203, 210
Keynes, John Maynard, xi
Kierkegaard, Soren, 22
Kinsey, Alfred C., 8,218
Klineberg, Otto, 102, 111
Kohr, Leopold, 122, 124, 140
Kroeber, Alfred L., x, xv, 54, 82, 107
Krutch, Joseph Wood, 121
LAFITTE, Paul, 79
Langford, William S., 140
LaPiere, Richard T., 131, 140
Larson, Arthur, 141
Laski, Harold j., 139, 143
Lasswell, Harold D., 243, 246, 253, 259
Lawrence, D. H., 59
Lazarsfeld, P. I., 216
Lazerouitz, Morris, 48
Leibell, J. F., 177 f.
Lenin, N. V., 151
Levy, Marion J., 258
Lewis, C. L., 178, 181
Linton, Ralph, 54, 57, 80
Lippmann, Walter, 143
Lipset, S. M., 233
Llavero, F., 217
Lorenz, Konrad, xii
Lucretius, 203
Lundberg, George A., 94, 99, 112, 253
MCGRANAHAN, Donald V., 102 f.
MACHLUP, Fritz, xi, xv
MacIver, Robert M., 44 f.
Malinowski, B., 54
Mannheim, Karl, 254
Margenau, Henry, 140
Maslow, Abraham, 56, 80, 217 f.
Marx, Karl, 122, 130
May, Mark A., 243
Mayman, M., 217
Mead, Margaret, 58, 129, 140
Index of Authors 263
Mechem, E., 200
Meerloo, J. A. M., 217
Meier, Richard L., 140, 178
Menninger, K., 217 f.
Merrill, Francis E., 97, 99
Merton, Robert K., 136, 140, 258
Mill, John Stuart, 178
Millard, C. V., 193, 200
Mises, Ludwig von, 170, 172, 177 f.
Mitchell, Robert A., 177 r.
Monan, J. Donald, 177 f.
Monod, J., 201
Monroe, Ruth L., 53 f., 80
Montaigne, M. E. de, 27 f., 80
Moon, Parker Thomas, 179
Moore, G. E., 26
Myrdal, Gunnar, 45 r., 48 r.
NADEL, S. F., 63, 81
Nagel, Ernest, 41 f., 48, 82
Nash, L. K., 194, 201
Neumeyer, Martin, 94, 96, 99
Newcomb, Theodore M., 239 f.
Newton, Isaac, 10, 24, 28, 47, 57
Niebuhr, Reinhold, 246
Nietzsche, 59, 211, 241, 251
Nimkoff, Meyer, 117
OBERNDORF, C. P., 114f., 117
Ogburn, William F., 117
Olson, W. C., 187 ff., 192 ff., 197 f., 201
Opler, ~ 1 . K., 217
Ortega y Gasset, J., 211, 217
Orwell, George, 213
PACKARD, H. 0., 216
Packard, Vance, 122
Pareto, Vilfredo, 221
Parkinson, D. Northcote, 233
Parsons, Talcott, 48, 116, 258
Penrose, Edith Tilton, 170, 179
Perry, Ralph Barton, 33
Phillips, R. P., 177 f.
Plato, 22, 42, 69, 80, 130
Polanyi, Michael, xv, 133
Polyneices, 34 f., 39
Popper, K. R., 136
Possony, Stefan T., 233
Price-Williams, D. R., 141
RADCLIFFE-BROWN, A. R., 54, 63, 80
Rapaport, Anatol, 217, 259
Redfield, Robert, 56, 60 f., 80 f.
Riesman, David, 109, 209, 211, 214,
217
Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 130, 163
Rose, Arnold M., 99, 259
Rothbard, Murray, 177 f.
Royce, Joseph R., xv
Russell, Bertrand, 47, 165
SAHAGUN, Friar Bernardino de, 55, 80
St. Augustine, 22, 148
Saint-Simon, Comte de, 202, 215, 221
Scheler, Max, xiv
Schlick, M., 202
Schumpeter, Joseph A., 44, 179
Sheppard, D., 142
Shils, Edward A., 48, 99
Sholl, D. A., 183, 201
Shuey, Audrey M., 111
Simpson, George, 116
Smith, Adam, 175, 179 f.
Smith, Elliot, 54
Smith, M. Brewster, 238
Sophocles, 35, 47
Sorokin, Pitirim, 146, 152 f.
Spengler, Oswald, 146, 209 ff., 214,
217, 242
Standen, Anthony, 179
Steward, Julian, 107 f.
Strausz-Hupe, R., 178
Sullivan, J. C., 54,201
Sutherland, Edwin H., 258
TAINE, H., 149 f., 152
Tanner, J. H., 217
Tappan, Paul W., 99
Tawney, R. H., 153
Tax, Sol, 143
Temple, William, 47
Thielens, W., 216
Thilly, Frank, 177 f.
Thompson, G. G., 193
Thompson, Laura, 258 f.
Thurnwald, Hilde, 124
Thurnwald, Richard, 58, 117
Thrupp, Sylvia, xiv
Tilgner, D. J., 141 f.
ZIMMERMAN, Carle C., 120, 140
YEAGER, Leland B., 142, 179,233
Young, Roland, 258
Index of Authors
Werkmeister, W. H., 156,201
White, Leonard D., 179, 258
Whitehead, Alfred North, 25, 28, 41, 48
Whorf, Benjamin, 204
Whyte, William Foote, 260
Whyte, W. H., 121, 211, 217
Wilberforce, Bishop, 81
Wilde, Oscar, 57
Williams, Roger J., 142
Wirth, Louis, 113, 259
Wright, H. F., 201
Wrightstone, J. W., 201
264
WAGNER, Kurt G., 141
Wall, W. D., 111
Weber, Max, 8, 38 f., 97, 99, 173, 242
VAN MELSEN, Andrew G., 177 fr.
Veblen, Thorstein, 80
Vincent, E. L., 198, 200
Viner, Jacob, xi, xvi
Vivas, Eliseo, 156
Voegelin, Eric, 259
Tocqueville, Alexis de, 256
Tolman, E., 53
Toohey, John J., 177 f.
Toynbee, Arnold, 146, 152 fr., 210 f.,
217
Tsilikis, John D., 143
Tugwell, Rex, 165
Index of Subj ects
academic freedom, 209
advertising, 121 ff., 140, 213
case against, 123 f.
age
chronological, 188 ff.
organismic, 188
aggression, xiv
American Assembly, 131, 141
American high school family, 120
American society
as a system, 132
anatomy
comparative, 129
anthropologist, 58
physical, 110
anthropology, 50
physical, xvi
anthropomorphic concepts, 203
Antigone, 34 ff.
appeasement, 44
archaeologist, xiii
archaeology, xiii, 143
artifacts, 136 f.
attitudes
measurement of, xiv, 130
autocatalytic theory, 184
behavioral sciences, 50, 100, 137 ff.
behaviorism, 225
behaviorists, 51
value positions of, 105 fr.
bias, melioristic, 93
biochemical individuality; 142
biology, 56
growth in, 181 ff.
blood donors, 121
brainwashing, 212
Brave New World, 213, 215
bureaucrat, 129
causation, 9 f., 223
change
cultural, 94
optimum, 94
speed of, 94
chemist
sensory competence among, 141 ff.
and sensory methodology, 140 fr.
and value judgments, 133 ff.
chemisty
food, 133 ff.
and subjective experiences, 133 ff.
and value judgments, 133 ff.
child
permissive treatment of, 198
psychology, 186 if.
the whole, 187 fr.
collectivism, 212
commitment
egalitarian, 117
to valuations, 16 fr.
to value judgments, 133 fr.
common good, 168
communism, 139, 150,234
leaders of, 227
conditioned reflex, 225
methods of, 121
configuration, 143
congruity v. incongruity, 128 fr.
consciousness, 168
individual, 170
-introspection, 225 ff.
control, 251
convergence, 186
resistance to, 192 f.
265
266 Index of Subjects
costs, administrative, 175
Counter-Revolution of Science, 221
criteria
of cognition, 137 ff.
of color, form, texture, 137
. ~ cultural relativism, 29 ff., 164
and free will, 164
culture-bound categories, 204
customs, relativity of, 30 ff.
Decline of the West, 209 ff.
democracy, 131, 232
determinism, 161 ff.
environmental, x
development
potentialities of human, 189
as ultimate goal, 102 ff.
dictatorship, 232
displacement, resistance to, 189, 192 f.
dysfunctional, 241, 250
ecology, xiii, 72
economic system
and intrinsic human values, 123 ff.
socialist, 137
economics, mathematical, xii, 11
education
American, 206
developmental theory in, 186, 193 ff.
growth in biology and, 181 ff.
egalitarianism, 137, 139
elasticity, 167
emergence, 76 f.
energetic imperative, 206
enthymeme, 96
environmental factors, 190
equality, 105 f., 131, 174 f.
appeal for, 46
equilibrium, 167, 236
equity, 174
ethics, 160
pseudo, 131
evolution, theory of, 63 fr.
experience
aesthetical element of, 227
nature of, 76 f.
experimental approach, 246
experiments, 2
laboratory, 171
extrapolation, 246
biological, 64
cultural evolution, 64
facts, 143, 155 f., 240 f.
defined, 40, 42 f.
historical, 155
true and pseudo, 156
uncertainty of, 156
factual reality, 240 f.
freedom, 234
defined, 229 fr.
a matter of, 229 f.
quality of, 229
French Revolution, 205
Freudian Ethic, 131
friction, 167
frustration, theory of, xiv
functionalism, 254
Gemeinschaft-Gesellschaft dichot-
omies, 121
genocide, 213
German General Staff, 132
going togetherness, 190 f.
Gestalt
psychology, 53
theory, 238
governmental power, 126 £F.
gravity, center of, 191 f.
Great Depression, 163
Greek polis, 130
group dynamics, 126 ff.
growing together, 230
growth
allometric, 185
in biology and education, 181 fr.
educational, 186 ff.
law of, 185
limited predictive powers of, 185
mental, 190
of mental attributes, 187 fr.
pattern of, 189 fr.
quantitative aspects of, 182
haematologist, 137
haematology, 142
happiness, 256
hidden persuasion, 121 :£f., 206, 212
Index of Subjects 267
historical process, 146 f.
historicism, 210
historiography, 220
history
defined, 147 f.
materialistic conception of, 151
method of, 210
philosophies of, 148
human action, 171, 176
human behavior, explanation of, 10
human dignity and the case against ad-
vertising, 123 f.
human engineering, 206
human nature, ix, 26 f., 248
coerced conditioning, 127
ignored, 127 f.
human objectives, 236, 244
functionalization of, 244 ff.
human relations, 123 ff.
quality of, 124 ff.
human varieties, differences between,
108 f.
humanities, link between social sciences
and, 220f.
I.Q., 187
ideographic, 210
improbability, principle of, 112
incongruity, historical, 130
India, 224
individual differences, 196
insurance schemes, voluntarily chosen,
141
intergroup relations, 126 ff.
mixed neighborhoods in city
planning, 126
International Historical Congress, 150 f.
juvenile delinque_ncy, 214
Kinsey report, 8, 217
knowledge
complete, 247
manipulative, 245 ff.
laboratory situations, 246
lacunae, relevant, 120
language, 237, 252
syntax of Indo-Germanic, 204
liberal-democratic institutions, 247
limnology, xiii
linguistics, xiii
Lloyd's of London, 132
lost community
crypto-quantitative comparison, 130
theme of the, 130
market economy, 169
Marxism, 151
materialism, 125 f.
mathematical
approach, 184
logic, 204
relations, 166 f.
mathematician, 137
measurement, III, 166
of political behavior, 226 ff.
menticide, 213
metaphors, 167, 179
methods, 156
axiomatic-deductive, 172
of comparison, 230
mathematical, 166 f.
of the natural sciences, 227 f.
pseudomathematical, xii
scientific, 57, 222
sensory, 140 ff.
methodology of the natural sciences,
221
migration, 143, 234
of man, 139
minority groups, 106 ff'
J
138
hospitals for, 114 f.
model, 210
nature of, 196 f.
neutral, 239
of social science, 252
verification of in science, 211
model-building, 166
moralism, 235
morphology
approach, xiii
approach to reality, 128 f.
myth, 45
nations, old, 169
natural childbirth fad, 129
naturalism, 73 ff.
science
bureaucra,tization of, 209
constructs of, 248
difference between, and studies of
man, 52
race, concept of, 106 ff.
rational leadership, 256
readiness, 192
Red China, 139, 224
reform, social, V
religions, pseudo, 215 f.
research
antibiotics, 136
choice of priority in, 119 f.
priority in, 140
standards of, 7 ff.
resentment, 127 f.
as basis of sociology, 116
rhetoric
of complexity, 141
defined, 84 f.
and science, 85
qualitative judgment, 135
quantification, 51 f.
Index of Subjects
positivism, 202 fr.
positivists, 42
and scientific research, 202 fr.
power, 256
power state, 257
amoral as result of social science, 257
praxeology, 160, 172
prediction, 62
prejudice, 33
privacy, 125
propaganda, responsiveness of human
beings, 127 f.
prophecies
self-defeating, 136
self-fulfilling, 136
Prophets of Doom, 152
protoplasm, 182
psychoanalyst, 57
psychological engineering, 206
psychology, 240
modern, 238
public good, 168
parameters, 184
Parkinson's Law, 226
pathologist, 137
pejorative terms, xiii
perspectivism, 204
pessimism, 146 ff.
philosophy, moral, 52, 136
physicalism, 202
physical science, position of, 28 f.
physics, 204
policy
an empirical science, 253
formulation of, 253
policy decisions, basis for, 135
policy sciences, 135
political behavior, measured, 226 fr.
political succession, 137
politically impossible, 131
politics, 122 f.
and methods of hidden persuasion,
122 f.
objectivity, 8 f., 60, 97, 100
defined, 22 ff.
in exploration of social phenomena,
220
idea of, 48
pseudo-, 32 f.
objects, status of, 24 fr.
observation
emphasis on, 128 ff.
predicates, 203
olfactory sense, 134
oratory, deliberative, 94 fr.
organismic
age curve, 195
analogies, 168, 210 ff.
fallacy, 169
organization man, 206
Organizational Revolution, 212
efficiency of, 229
origins of man, 64 ff.
other-directedness, 214
nature and nurture, 189
neopositivism, II
neutrality, ethical, 8
New Deal, 165 f.
nihilism, 211, 214
268
Index of Subjects 269
science (Cont.)
levelling in, 208
organization in, 208 f.
organization of, 243 f.
purpose of, 254
of quantities, 204
a symbolic system, 203
system of, 3 ff.
and values, 173
scientific
analysis, 112
aspects of man, 55 if.
data, 59
experience, 203
method, 57
preciseness, 91
quest for knowledge, 114
terminology, 154
treatment, 55 ff.
scientific concepts
application of, to humans, 199 f.
criteria for, 199 f.
scientific pretension screens the power
urge, 223
scientism, 55 f.
basic defect of, 215 f.
characterized by three basic con-
cepts: objectivism, collectivism,
historicism, 205
dangers of, 151 ff.
defined, ix ff., xiv, 1, 128 ff., 147, 159
in the economic market, 122 ff.
effects of, 157, 250 ff.
in history, 147 ff.
implicit assumptions, 171
inroads in field of politics, 223 fr.
key to, 165
and language, VII, 93
and left-wingers, 152
and the natural, social, and moral
sciences, 128 :fr.
and progressing statism, 211 tr.
as a religion, xv
vs. science, 159 :fr.
and statistics, 152 If.
where it occurs, 19 ff.
in the writing of history, 144 fr.
scientist, neutral, 100
scientistic credo, 206
attitude, consequences of, 207
Selbstentfremdung des Menschen, 122
sensory
analysis of nutrients, 141 f.
deprivation, 214
perceptions, 133 ff.
role of in knowledge, 27 ff.
servomechanism, 165 f.
simplification, 222 f.
social action, tactical maneuvers of,
116
social conflict, 249
social controls, 126 £F.
social engineering, 165 f.
social engineers, 252 :fr.
their goal defined, 254 f.
social health, 244
social order, 235
rational, 34
social problems, 89, 94, 228
social reality, indicative lacunae in,
120 f.
social reformers, 125 ff.
perfectionism of, 125 if.
social sciences, 250 ff.
amoral power state as result of, 257
concepts in, 106 if.
data of, 226
potency of the models of, 252
and social action, 250 ff.
unification of, 251 f.
value of, 5
social scientists
bias of, 22 fr., 32 fr.
effects of, xiii, 46
fiduciary responsibility of, 100
and justice, 29, 45
the limits to their action, 251 f.
and the natural sciences, 220 fr.
and objectivity, 43 ff.
power in society of, 43 :fr.
as propagandists, 109
and values, 12
vision of, 249
social security schemes, 131, 141
social stratification, 139
society
affluent, 123 ff.
values
clusters, 16
commitments, 12, 101 fr., 114
judgments, 58 fr., 139, 1}3
and the person, 13 f.
problem of, 4
for science, 7
in science, 6
theory of, 13 fT.
value-free, 101
variable, concept of, 167
Vienna Circle, 202
Vitality of Western Civilization, 144 fr.
underdeveloped countries, 224
underprivileged, 89
unfolding design, 189
unrealizable world, concern with,
239 fr.
unscholarly, 134 f.
unscientific, xii, 134 f.
to apply methods of the natural sci-
ences categorically to the fields of
sociology, economics, and politics,
227 f.
urban quality, 137
Use and Abuse of History, 148 ff.
Index of Subjects
terms (Cont.)
positive, 88
Third Reich, 139
totalitarianism, 223
270
society (Cont.)
analytical model of concrete, 241
capitalistic, 139
concept of, 131 fT., 163
concept and.reality, 16 fT.
conception of, 96 f.
good, 129
neutral model of, 239
as an organism, 168
organismic concept of, 129
stable, 17
sociologists
oratory of, 94 fT.
scientistic, 85 ff.
sociology
concept of asymmetry in, 140
Soviet Russia, 104, 129
and all-out advertising, 123 f.
historians, 151
historiography, 151
standards, absolute, 198 ff.
Statement of Human Rights, 107ff.
statistics, 8
used by historians, 153
Study of History, 153 ff.
subjectivity and objectivity, 25 ff.
subliminal motivation, 212
system
concept of, 131 fT.
collectivistic, 139
theory of a specific, 132
sympathy, 126
taxation, 175
technology, 207
teleology, 81
terms
dialectical, 88
Wertfreiheit, 173
wisdom of the body idea, 198
Wissenschaft, II fT.
world crisis, defined, 228 ff.
world society, 229 f.

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